


Keeping Faith

by flikrin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blasphemy, Implied Torture, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, References to Suicide, References to Underage Prostitution, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-15 16:53:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flikrin/pseuds/flikrin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester was not born the Righteous Man, but Gabriel was curious about this bright soul which held so much potential.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 2011 lj debriel_mini  
> Spoilers for season 1-6
> 
> The wonderful art by Hypocriticoaf is [here](http://hypocriticoaf.livejournal.com/531.html)

Dean wasn’t born the Righteous Man. He became the Righteous One through the culmination of stubborn will and decisions, some of them downright stupid but always striving to make the right choice. His soul had an innate _goodness_  that was increasingly rare these days.  
  
Every soul has a chance to become Righteous. Throughout the ages, there have always been a handful of humans with faith who were posthumously raised to sainthood, a smattering of martyrs, and others who were just good, living peaceably and sticking stoutly by God’s commandments and their own moral principles.  
  
Gabriel admired those humans for their strength and was buoyed by the hope that not all was lost. That there were still humans who prevailed even in the face of the overwhelming sin and temptation that mired God’s beloved earth.  
  
However, Dean’s soul was brighter and larger than any being’s Gabriel had ever seen. Most humans had souls the size of a golf ball, something that would fit perfectly in the palm of one hand.  
  
But Dean’s…  
  
Dean’s soul was barely contained in his body, and its radiance would spill out, diffusing around Dean in a subtle glow that only people who were ‘sensitive’ could perceive.  
  
Gabriel had always been curious about this little soul. Such incredible potential crammed into it, brought into existence by two powerful bloodlines.  
  
So when Gabriel discovered Dean, he stuck around, punishing the odd, fucked up mutton-head here and there while he studied the bright-eyed baby as it morphed into a crawly one, sticking fingers into every nook and cranny it could jam its stubby fingers into.  
  
Every few weeks, he popped by, observing the human infant and his parents in turn. Gabriel didn’t care much for the baby powder they doused their infant with but the hanging baby mobiles were strangely hypnotizing and Gabriel found himself staring along with the baby as they spun in the invisible breeze Gabriel kicked up.  
  
Gabriel also thought he saw tiny protective charms scratched onto the colourful shapes hanging from the mobile. Sure enough, when he looked closer, they were standard protective runes; even the clothing the baby wore had little charms stitched on it.  
  
Although Gabriel wouldn’t admit it, even under pain of having his feathers yanked out one by one, he gradually realized he enjoyed spending time in the Winchester nursery, basking in the pure glow of an innocent soul. That in itself was rare enough in the world and even scarcer with the type of humans Gabriel sought out to torment and destroy; it was a refuge that Gabriel found himself indulging more and more.  
  
Still, he didn’t ever stay for long, just half an hour at most every few weeks. Usually only a few minutes because it was boring just watching a baby, no matter how bright the soul. Gabriel would mess with the wallpaper, change the baby rattles and squishy, cotton-stuffed toys into truly obscene objects that would horrify any parent and scar young, malleable minds, or he’d turn the crib into a miniature jumping castle and watch the baby gurgle with delight as he bounced and wobbled about.  
  
It was turning into a fairly amusing pastime.  
  
Sometimes he revealed himself, and Gabriel would tickle Dean’s feet with an evil grin, causing Dean to burst out into stunningly loud bright peals of baby laughter, squirming at the strange sensation. Or he’d prod the chubby baby, dangling other shiny objects just out of reach.  
  
Of course, that usually backfired on Gabriel as he ended up hard pressed not to crumble against the ridiculously adorable pout he got in response. Defeated, Gabriel would scowl at the baby and handed over the toy.  
  
And in this particular instance, Dean clutched his new prize, a toy car with a triumphant gummy grin.  
  

*

  
Gabriel lay on his back on the rug in the center of the nursery with Dean snoozing contentedly in his crib a few feet to Gabriel’s left.  
  
When nightfall came along in the neighbourhood the Winchesters lived in, it was like a blanket of silence had settled around the area, not the eerie absence of all sound, but rather a calming, peaceful presence. Gabriel stayed where he was as the Winchesters and their neighbours fell asleep. Staring at the ceiling with his head pillowed on his arms, Gabriel listened to the quiet baby snores and watched the rippling play of golden light Dean’s soul gave off.  
  
Incredibly, Dean’s soul was still as pure as the moment it had entered the life form that was now the baby in the crib, in fact, it had probably intensified. Gabriel might have wondered if Dean was being affected by Gabriel’s presence, but as always, Gabriel’s grace was sealed tightly within his vessel. He’d been denying his divinity for centuries, so there wasn’t a shred of angel left in him, on the surface at least. Nothing that would have affected Dean’s soul.  
 

*

  
The first time Dean looked like he was going to start crying, Gabriel hightailed it out of there. It was going to ground zero in babyland, and he wasn’t going to stick around.  
  
But on the third scrunched-up baby face three seconds to SNAFU, Gabriel just willed his favourite foods into existence. Human babies liked sweets right? You couldn’t go wrong with sweets. So the moment Dean opened his mouth to wail for his Mommy, Gabriel stuck a finger coated with pie filling and crumbly bits of crust into Dean’s mouth.  
  
The little brat bit him the first time he did that and gave some truly epic wails that sent Mommy and Daddy running to check up on him. Dean had just begun teething, and those teeth astonishingly sharp.  
  
Cursing, Gabriel cloaked himself just in time to see Mary burst in with a frantic look on her face. The brat immediately calmed down in Mary’s arms and Gabriel watched as she brushed the wispy blonde hairs from Dean’s face and kissed his nose.  
  
The next time Gabriel appeared, he touched Dean’s brow gently with two fingers as Dean blinked drowsily at him. Dean yawned, settling back into sleep, used to the strange man who appeared when no one else was around and sometimes bullied him but let him have shiny things to play with.  
  
Feeling decidedly odd, Gabriel created a stool beside Dean’s crib and perched there, watching the golden glow of Dean’s soul, shining brightly and content, barely concealed in its limited mortal shell as Dean slept on trustingly in the presence of the wayward angel.  
  

*

  
Gabriel spent more and more time at the Winchester’s place as the baby grew into a toddler, who now tottered drunkenly about on two limbs instead of crawling around determinedly on four. And if Lawrence became a town with an astonishingly low crime rate, well, those douchebags had it coming for them.  
  
When Dean was feeling especially adventurous or if John had accidently left the kiddie pen unlocked, Gabriel was there making sure Dean didn’t crack his head open and waste all the potential his soul represented. Unlocked playpens or not, Dean got into all sorts of trouble, Dean had a natural knack for jimmying the supposed baby-proof lock.  
  
Usually, Gabriel enabled those great escapes and watched with amusement as Dean bumped into the occasional chair or scraped a knee, but Dean never sustained anything more than a bruise or graze. The brat was surprisingly resilient, picking himself up without so much as a peep or wail for mommy, and soldiered on with his exploration.  
  
If Dean got too near the top of the stairs or the grill of the fireplace, Gabriel gently steered him away and conjured up some interesting trinket to catch Dean’s attention. Legos, toy cars, or comic book action heroes worked like a charm. Or if Dean was being extra stubborn, Gabriel lured him away with the promise of sweets.  
  

*

  
Even though Mary was ‘out’ of the hunting life, she was still as paranoid as any old hunter and there were devils traps drawn in some truly ingenious hiding places.  
  
As Gabriel spent more and more time at the Winchester’s, he realized with a jolt of unease that Dean had inherited Mary’s heightened awareness and perception. Even when invisible, Dean’s eyes would linger curiously on where he stood before glancing away as though dismissing his presence as he continued interacting with his parents.  
  
In fact, Gabriel didn’t notice this at first; it was Mary, in the ever wary way hunters had to be if they wished to continue breathing, who called his attention upon it.  
  
“Dean, what are you looking at?” Mary asked, her voice pleasant and curious, but there was a tenseness that made her bite off the last word slightly sharper than she meant to.  
  
Gabriel was studying the warding symbol etched on the wooden cabinet the Winchester family group photo conveniently covered. It was a simple, surprisingly effective spell that turned away the attention of most creepy-crawlies. Gabriel thought this particular piece of knowledge had been lost to humans since the 17th century, but obviously not to the Campbells.  
  
At Mary’s question, Gabriel turned curiously, only to realize with a jolt that Dean was staring straight at him.  
  
Dean blinked. “I just really like that picture,” he told Mary sunnily, digging his finger into the grilled cheese toast Mary had made for him.  
  
Mary smiled and moved to drop a kiss to the top of Dean’s head. “We should take another one. You’ve grown up so much since the last time.”  
  
“One with all of us?” Dean asked.  
  
“That’s what family portraits are.” Mary eyed Dean sternly, “And don’t talk with your mouth full.”  
  
Dean swallowed pointedly, his mouth covered in breadcrumbs, and looked back at Gabriel, where he stood invisibly in front of the photo and smiled. “Okay.”  
  
Dean was looking into his eyes again and Gabriel took a step back, vanishing, unease crawling down his spine.  
  

*

  
By the time Gabriel dared venture back, six months had passed, and he hung around, invisible, testing to see if Dean’s eyes would follow him, or if Dean gave any sign that he noticed his presence.  
  
There was nothing. Dean played happily with his Batman plastic figurines and stuck close to his mom. It was plain as day that Dean adored Mary and was doubly curious about the beginnings of the swelling of Mary’s stomach.  
  
Gabriel unveiled his presence when the entire household was asleep, unsure if Dean still remembered him. Then, as he sat on one of Dean’s tiny wooden chairs, it creaked traitorously and Dean’s eyes popped open. Gabriel froze in indecision, but Dean only sat up, rubbing his cheek with a jaw cracking yawn.  
  
And when Dean only smiled at him, flinging back his covers to hug Gabriel’s legs, Gabriel couldn’t bring himself to move let alone leave again.  
  
“You’re back!” Dean said in a hushed voice, happiness shining in his eyes.  
  
Gabriel didn’t trust himself to speak.  
  
Dean’s voice dropped lower as he said accusingly, “You missed the photo. But there’s going to be another, when Sammy comes home. I’m going to be a big brother soon.”  
  
Burying his nose into Gabriel’s knee, Dean clung on tighter. “I missed you.”  
  
Gabriel’s throat closed up and he gingerly placed a hand on Dean’s sleep-tousled head. He marveled at the stunning brightness of Dean’s soul, shining with joy just because Gabriel had returned. It had been a long time anyone was that happy just to see him.  
  
He pressed a finger to Dean’s temple and whispered in his mind,  _hey, kiddo. I missed you too._ Then, hesitantly,  _My name’s Gabriel._  
  
Standing on tippy toes, Dean propped his chin on Gabriel’s knee and beamed.  
  

*

  
On the rare occasions John and Mary left Dean alone with a trusted babysitter, Gabriel sent the girl to sleep, weaving an illusion that convinced her Dean was doing nothing more harmless than taking a nap as she watched her favourite television programs, phoned her boyfriend or whatever else adolescent female humans did.  
  
In reality, Gabriel took Dean to Las Vegas, Hawaii and Disneyland. He fed Dean all sorts of lollies and sweets, candied apple, fairy floss and pie. Gabriel even let Dean have a tear drop’s worth of ambrosia once. It intensified the stunning glow of Dean’s soul for a brief moment, until Dean spat the liquid out with a disgusted face.  
  
Stunned, Gabriel stared as Dean scowled at him, then Gabriel threw back his head laughing.  
  
“It tasted wrong,” Dean told Gabriel firmly. Gabriel peered closely at Dean’s soul. The supercharged flare up of Dean’s soul from the ambrosia had died down, but there was a subtle pearlescent sheen to it now, an almost iridescent sparkle that would probably mortify the kid if Gabriel ever told him.  
  
Smiling, Gabriel ruffled Dean’s hair. “Yeah, it’s not for us.”  
  

*

  
Loki snorted when Mary bent down to kiss Dean’s cheek and whispered softly, voice full of affection, “Angels are watching over you.”  
  
Arms crossed, Loki turned away as Mary murmured a simple prayer, checked all the subtly placed wards and flicked the light switch.  
  
Loki approached Dean carefully. Dean blinked sleepy eyes at him, each blink slower and longer than the last, and a tiny furrow appeared briefly before grudgingly smoothing out in sleep.  
  
“Hail Mary, full of grace,” Gabriel recited, the words like ash in his vessel’s sandpaper dry mouth. Mary didn’t truly believe in God and Angels, she’d seen too much suffering to believe, to  _want_  to believe. Gabriel wished he had that luxury. “Pray for us, that we may be worthy of salvation. Amen. Amen. Amen.”  
  
Gabriel smiled at Dean, watching his peaceful face, unmarred by the horrors life had to offer and his soul, bright, though muted, softer in rest.  
  
“Goodnight, Dee. I’ll watch over your dreams just this once.”  
  

*  
 

Gabriel had been locked in a tiff between Kali and Baldur for the last two months and narrowly avoided jumpstarting the pagan Armageddon. He’d managed to escape from gaining an early ticket straight to the lush valleys of Vallhalla, or in Gabriel’s case, be delivered back the tender mercies of the Host complete with a ribbon and a cherry on top.  
  
He spent the next few days recuperating in the small pockets of sacred ground left on Earth, soaking up the natural energies that flowed strongly in the leylines of the Earth. Gabriel smiled when he remembered the glow on Dean’s face as he looked after his new baby brother.  
  
The awe and depth of love Dean held for the new baby was startling and a little humbling.  
  
Gabriel hadn’t felt that way about his brothers and sisters for far too long. In fact, he still couldn’t muster up anything more than a passing interest, and then he had to choke down the bitter disappointment and resentment he felt towards Michael and Sammael. Their differences had torn apart their family and Gabriel was still too angry to forgive them.  
  
So Gabriel was keen to return to Lawrence and do nothing but bask in the unsullied affection and protectiveness Dean held for the newest Winchester.  
  
But the moment he felt recovered enough, he appeared at the charred remains of what used to be Dean’s bedroom. Horror assailed him, so strong and invasive that he felt actual physical urge to vomit. Shock numbing his mind, he desperately cast his senses out for the familiar bright soul he’d been looking out for over the past four and a half years.  
  
Obviously not well enough.  
  
Gabriel nearly wept in relief when he locked on the still amazingly pure soul that was Dean and immediately appeared there, invisible. Dean’s soul was subdued, an aching loss pervading it, but still intact and still golden.  
  
Surrounded by empty bottles and cans, John was passed out on the old couch of an apartment in Missouri, and Sam was napping in the makeshift baby cot beside it. Dean was curled up on the floor against the foot of Sam’s cot, staring blankly at the terrible wallpaper, florid and garish.  
  
Dean’s head snapped round at Gabriel’s arrival, eyes frightened and haunted. Gabriel barely had time to take in the situation before Dean was on his feet, barreling into him.  
  
Dean was shaking, and tears John had reprimanded him for slid down his face. “G-gabriel,” Dean said, his voice breaking.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Gabriel murmured, coaxing Dean to let go long enough to pick him up. Dean tightened his arms around Gabriel’s neck and cried silently.  
  
Gabriel closed his eyes, cradling Dean’s soul, easing the pain of Mary’s death and the bewilderment at John’s change in attitude. It was like Dean had lost two parents in one night, and Dean had no idea how to take care of Sammy, how to keep him safe, how to stop him from crying, so they wouldn’t make Dad angry and even sadder, how to get Sammy to go to sleep, or how to get him to laugh and make Dad smile again.  
  
It had only been four weeks since Mary had burned up in the house, since John had packed up what was left of the Winchester family and drove off in a haze of denial and grief. Gabriel was four weeks too late, and he’d failed.  
  
Carefully, stepping around the mess of things on the floor and holding Dean close, he examined Samuel Winchester critically. Gabriel was reluctant to release Dean, now that the little boy had fallen asleep, having cried himself out and let exhaustion catch up to his young body. Dean was at peace for the moment so Gabriel adjusted his hold to peer at Samuel better.  
  
Samuel’s soul two months ago had been like any other human infants, pure and shiny, but now there was a foul taint that originated from his body. It was just starting to affect Samuel’s soul. This didn’t make sense, Gabriel had noticed the taint on Mary’s soul from the deal she’d made, and now she was dead, but her youngest bore the mark of powerful demon.  
  
A sneaking suspicion crept in, and, shifting Dean slightly again, Gabriel reached out brush Samuel’s brow with two fingers. He hesitated slightly before purging the demon blood with a concentrated pulse of grace. Pure as it still was, Sam’s soul remained unharmed, only cleansing the taint. But the demon blood already had enough time inside Sam’s system. Sam would always be more susceptible to demonic influence and some of the demon blood’s effects would always remain.  
  
While Gabriel thought he knew what the demon’s intentions had been, the true reasons for the demon blood and their remaining effects on Sam would only be revealed later on.  
  
“Azazel,” Gabriel muttered, anger flooding his veins, “you’ll pay for interfering with my charge’s family.” His arms tightened around Dean. “What are you planning?”  
  
The Winchester and Campbell lines were old, angelic vessel bloodlines for Michael and Sammael, but no one other than the archangels knew this carefully guarded secret. Technically, Mary was a potential vessel for Sammael and John for Michael while Dean and Sam could house either.  
  
However, it appeared that Dean was intended to be the True vessel for Michael, and now that Gabriel had a better reading on Sam’s body, it seemed Sam was to be the True vessel for Sammael. Even if Dean’s soul became tarnished, and the first seal was broken by the Righteous Man, he would still be pulled into the apocalypse. Gabriel was at a loss about what to do.  
  

*

Gabriel had been part of Dean’s life since he was born. But that was the point. Gabriel was part of  _Dean’s_  life, not Mary’s, John’s nor Sam’s. However much Dean revolved around John and Sam, they didn’t mean as much to him as Dean, though they were extensions of Dean.  
  

*

  
“Gabriel!” Dean said, tumbling to his feet when Gabriel appeared in the middle of some crappy motel room in a podunk town. “Where’ve you been?”  
  
Already irritated and growing more irritated at the questions, Gabriel felt himself draw in, using the facade that had become him. Loki sneered, “I don’t answer to you.”  
  
All Loki felt was the screaming urge to twist, destroy and punish, unleash his fury at the injustice he’d suffered. The cruel capricious, petty anger of gods who’d been slighted. “You’re not the only thing in my life, Dean. In fact, if I wanted to, I could close my eyes and by the time I opened them again, you’d be nothing more than dust and ashes.”  
  
Stopped cold, Dean stared at Loki, silent and so still. He could see the raw hurt open and bleeding in the tremour of his hands, before it vanished, his face shuttered and resigned.  
  
Loki snapped his fingers, his eyes colder than the terrible frozen Norse winters, “I should just kill you. Stop the whole thing, before it can even begin.” And Dean was shoved against the wall, pinned flat against the torn wallpaper.  
  
Loki flicked his finger up, and Dean inched up the wall, caught and helpless under the brunt of a pagan god’s ire. “You’re going to kill my family. I won’t allow it. I won’t! My brothers, sacrificing themselves in the name of Father’s beloved flawed human race?” Loki sent Dean up in a violent surge, knocking the human boy’s head on the ceiling. “It’s like asking Sammy to die for vermin, for cockroaches. Would you stand back and allow that? Tell me.”  
  
Dean was breathing rapidly, shallow and his green eyes welled with tears as the teardrops curved down his cheek, dripping off his jaw. “I’m sorry, Gabriel. I-I’m so sorry.”  
  
Abruptly, Gabriel released his hold, and Dean collapsed onto the floor with faint hitching breaths and a sickening crack. Head bowed, Dean touched his ankle lightly before looking up at Gabriel from under eyelashes clumped and wet with tears, glimmering gold and wretchedness.  
  
“What you said,” Dean said quietly. “Is it true?”  
  
“W-what?” Gabriel’s voice cracked.  
  
“That I’ll kill your family. Is it true?”  
  
Numb, all the tormented hellfire of rage burned out of him, Gabriel could only nod.  
  
Dean took a breath and said in the same quiet tone, a flatness no ten year old should ever have, “Then I don’t mind. Brothers…” He shivered, his expression haunted. “I nearly let Sammy die last month. I let that monster in and then it escaped. You can’t make that mistake. Family is everything. I know I’d do anything for them.”  
  
The grimness in Dean’s face made Gabriel’s breath catch in his throat, but then the harshness softened, and, fuck, the light of Dean’s soul was a gentle effusing glow, like halogens light, so bright and beautiful.  
  
Dean smiled a small crooked half smile, a little helpless and self conscious. “If I…If it’s you, I don’t mind,” Dean said finally and looked Gabriel straight in the eye.  
  
Gabriel was ashamed to admit he was tempted, so tempted to reach out and snap that all too fragile neck and snuff out the soul that loved and considered him family. The soul that was willing to do anything for family, even die for them to keep them safe, to keep them from hurting.  
  
Dean shivered at the light touch of power against his wet cheek, and he turned his head slightly, following the gentle suggestion, trusting and acquiescent. Complacent and almost fearless, Dean’s eyelids drooped, hooded and waiting. This frightened the fuck out of Gabriel, and he knew then, without a doubt, in this horrific moment of clarity, that this ten year old boy would be the one to lay the world to ruins.  
  
And so Gabriel did what he did best. He ran away.  
  

*

  
After Gabriel’s temper tantrum and hasty retreat, it took a while for Gabriel to stop drowning himself in sugar, sex and murder and come back to Dean.  
  
He appeared in the same run down motel where he’d pinned Dean to the wall and slid him up high, dangling. Gabriel almost wanted to throw up when he sat by Dean’s bed, the curtains drawn and salt lining every exit point. Two feet away from Dean, Sammy was fast asleep on the other bed.  
  
Dean’s eyes blinked open slowly, the green of them dark and almost luminous in the weak shine of light streaming in from the frothy curtains. Hands unclenching from the knife under his pillow, Dean smiled faintly, sleepy and happy to see him. But the look in his eyes was a little more broken, and there was a curious gold amulet hanging around his neck, just barely visible where it sat in the hollow of his throat.  
  
Dean was quiet, didn’t ask any questions, and Gabriel could see Dean’s gladness in his return, the knowledge that his family was together again, in Dean’s quiet shattered gaze.  
  
Gabriel didn’t apologise, he wasn’t made for apologies. What he did say was, “You shouldn’t trust me.”  
  
Noticing the quick flick of Dean’s glance towards his slumbering brother, Gabriel quirked a smile and shook his head. Nobody would hear or see them unless Gabriel wanted them to.  
  
“I’m not human, Dee,” Gabriel whispered.  
  
Dean bit his lip. “I know.” He touched a finger to the burnished amulet and said. “I had to tell Sammy about things like you recently.”  
  
Looking at Sam, who slept so soundly in the safety of his brother’s and father’s protection, his breathing even and peaceful; didn’t seem like a child who now knew of the horrors of the world. His soul still carried the shine of purity, an innocence Dean guarded so fiercely.  
  
Raising the body temperature of his vessel, Gabriel brushed the curve of Dean’s sleep warm face with his knuckles, gentle and almost remorseful. He stared into Dean’s eyes levelly. “I’m a Demii. What you hunters might call a Trickster.” It was true, Gabriel hadn’t been an Angel for centuries, he was as much a Demii now as he was an Angel. “How can you still call me family, knowing that I’m what your daddy hunts? What you hunt and kill?”  
  
The time Gabriel had told him what ‘Loki’ did, it hadn’t gone down well at all.  
  
Always too concerned with the lives of his family, Dean had pestered Gabriel until Gabriel finally coughed up what he did during the long stretches of time he spent away. Some of the tricks Dean had used had impressed even ‘Loki’.  
  
“I do what your daddy does. But I pick up where he leaves off. Can’t leave the job unfinished can we?” Gabriel had said.  
  
“You’re a hunter too?” Dean said, sounding eager and impressed, like the seven year old he was supposed to be. “What kind of monsters?”  
  
“The kind that go unpunished,” was all Gabriel said and he’d said no more until the first time he brought Dean along.  
  
Dean stirred restlessly and moved as though to sit up. Gabriel shook his head and Dean reluctantly stilled, it was still deep in winter and decidedly chilly tonight. “Family’s more than blood,” Dean refuted, his fingers gripping the frayed edges of his blanket so tightly it wrinkled in his annoyance.  
  
“This isn’t like what you have with Pastor Jim or ‘Uncle’ Bobby,” Gabriel snapped. “I’m a monster.”  
  
“Why do you keep saying this?” Dean burst out, looking upset but desperately trying not to show it. He struggled to sit up and this time Gabriel let him. “You aren’t,” he said fiercely.  
  
They stared at each other, Dean twisted in his bed sheets to face Gabriel.  
  
Gabriel let his silence speak for him, his eyebrows arched, waiting for Dean’s inevitable realization and reaction. Surely even Dean at his most stubborn could recognize the fact that Gabriel was nothing more than a monster killing in the tarnished name of justice.  
  
Biting his lip harder, the pain seemed to banish Dean’s heartbroken expression. “I don’t care what you did or might do to me.” Dean’s voice was low and raspy, terrified but still forging along determinedly, “But you won’t hurt them will you?” Dean’s eyes shone with tears, bloodshot like the night of the fire and billowing plumes of smoke that burned up his house.  
  
Foolish boy, Gabriel thought. Foolish and almost crippled with loneliness but still possessing so much heart.  
  
Dean started to shiver in the chill of the room, just tiny tremors that Gabriel felt to the back of his teeth. It was an almost unconscious thought to reach out and send a wash of warmth into Dean’s body.  
  
Gabriel had never hidden his otherness from Dean, the boy had seen him create things from nothing, stand on the ceiling, given him ‘badass’ wolverine claws, then capitulated to demands of a scaled down genuine batman costume and brought him along on jaunts overseas. Dean had seen his otherness since he was a baby even if no one else had.  
  
But Dean also knew how easily he killed those ‘bad people’ whose souls were blackened twisted creatures.  
  
Gabriel offered Dean a small faded smile, brittle and reassuring at the same time. “I won’t harm Sam or your Dad,” he promised.  
  
All the tension drained out of Dean’s body, and Gabriel’s heart ached to see such a pure soul have to make a decision like this. Dean saw Gabriel as family, but he was one of the supernatural things that had killed his mother, and he had to protect Dad and Sam. Gabriel could see the huge wave of relief flood through Dean that he didn’t have anything to fear from Gabriel.  
  
Dean feared for others, never himself. It was one of the more annoying traits in the most promising of humans. Their inner character flaw which made them all too susceptible to being killed off.  
  
Gabriel managed to settle Dean back under the covers with minimal grumbling, it wasn’t difficult, the kid’s eyes were drooping again.  
  
“How long’s your dad been gone, kiddo?” Gabriel asked softly.  
  
Dean could barely keep his eyes open and mumbled, “A week and two days.”  
  
“Need anything?”  
  
Managing to dredge up a faint grin, Dean slurred sleepily, “More lucky-charms’ll be awesome. Pancakes too. Pie…”  
  
Gabriel grinned back and smoothed the top of Dean’s head, the fine locks of Dean’s fair hair playing across his fingers like liquid sunlight, and his heart stuttered when Dean leaned into his palm. “I’ll see what I can do then.”  
  

*

  
Dean rolled around on Uncle Bobby’s ratty sofa, bored out of his mind. He couldn’t even go outside to shoot some cans, not since the last time, when the bullet had ricocheted off, which had frightened a pigeon and also miraculously shot off the chains Uncle Bobby’s dogs were leashed with.  
  
It totally wasn’t Dean’s fault.  
  
Still, with the dogs’ newfound freedom and tasty feathery meal in sight, they’d scampered off on a chasing frenzy, barking madly all the while. It’d taken hours for Uncle Bobby, Sam and him to corner them in the huge maze of the junk yard and leash them.  
  
Dean rolled onto his stomach with a loud sigh, craning his head to take a peak at Sammy. Ever since Dean had told Sam about what Dad did for a living, all the little brat wanted to do was learn more about monsters. He’d already devoured the reading list their temporary school had given them and had moved onto Uncle Bobby’s.  
  
Dean squinted at the title of Sam’s current book, something Cuthu and was that the word love he saw on the cover? That wasn’t even folklore, more like fairytale! He always knew Sam was a girl.  
  
Sam had to be a weird book monster of some kind that loved chick lit. It just wasn’t natural.  
  
Sam had also become far more diligent with his prayers, even going so far as to say grace at meals. Dean had quickly put an end to that. But Dean would bet the kid was still reciting them in his head instead of out loud.  
  
“Let’s go swim in the creek,” Dean said, mustering his best cajoling tone, the one that had a smile in it as though inviting the other in an inside joke. It did wonders for suspicious motel clerks or nosy teachers when they noticed how long two teenage kids were loitering by themselves.  
  
He hooked his legs atop the sagging back of the sofa and he slipped sideways until his head was hanging off the cushions. Blood rushed down his head as he looked cross-eyed at his upside down brother.  
  
“Sah-mmee,” Dean wheedled.  
  
Sam’s nose scrunched up. “No. I’m busy.”  
  
“What’s so interesting about all that musty stuff Uncle Bobby has anyway?”  
  
Sam glared at him. “Why don’t you go play with all those knives and guns Uncle Bobby has? Stop bothering me.”  
  
Pouting, Dean rolled off the sofa with a thump, but he brightened at Sammy’s suggestion. “Maybe I should. Uncle Bobby has a wicked set of blades. And those ninja stars!”  
  
Sam’s attention had already returned to his book, but he still muttered, a little smugly, “They’re called shuriken, Dean.”  
  
“How are we even related?” Dean said wonderingly, lying spread eagled on the carpet.

  
*

  
Dean’s eyes were scrunched tight as he recited the exorcism haltingly, “Humiliare sub potenti manu dei…contremisce et…effuge, invocato a nobis… sancto et –” Here, his eyes popped open and his mouth was parted slightly as he wracked his brain trying to remember what came next. “te - terribili nomine, quem inferi tremunt?”  
  
Gabirel just watched Dean with one eyebrow arched, and his arms folded across his chest.  
  
“Ab in _sid_  - in _si_ dis,” Dean said, stumbling over the words, looking more and more dejected and frustrated as he continued. “diaboli, libera nos, Domine…”  
  
Finally the words tapered off, and Dean stared at the ground mutely.  
  
“These two pages of Latin are what separates you from staying in one piece and becoming a demon’s playtoy,” Gabriel said.  
  
Dean nodded tensely.  
  
Sighing noisily, Gabriel said, “Let’s go over this again. We’re going to do this until you can recite this damn exorcism back to front.”  
  
Horrified, Dean gaped, his eyes growing a little round as though the task Gabriel had set was some formidable foe squishing his favourite cherry pie under its disgusting feet. “Seriously?”  
  
“No,” Gabriel chuckled. “But you are going to learn this.”  
  
What followed was five hours of non-stop rote learning, many headaches, hissy fits, accusations of sadism which weren’t too far off the mark and pleads for mercy. Dean was nothing but adaptable, immediately switching tracks when the previous was found useless.  
  
This time, however, Gabriel was adamant and so after he’d cheerfully ground away all of Dean’s resistance, Dean could confidently reel off the Rituale Romanum in two minutes flat. It was pretty good progress for someone who couldn’t remember past the second verse when they first started.  
  
“Finally!” Gabriel said gleefully. “Now I can do this!”  
  
He poked Dean’s forehead with two fingers, and Dean leapt away, slapping his hands over the point of contact.  
  
“Ow!” Dean cried out. “Ow. What the…Owowowow.”  
  
“Dee, you big baby,” Gabriel said teasingly, wearing a huge smile that was equal teeth and mirth. “I only just put the whole Latin language in your head.”  
  
As the sudden sharp stabbing pain in his head faded to a more manageable degree, Dean was left blinking tears of pain away. “I didn’t think you could do that.”  
  
“Oh, Dee,” Gabriel said with a suggestive leer. “There’s so much more I can do.”  
  
The comment seemed to fly right over Dean’s head. However when a realization struck Dean, he glared daggers at Gabriel. “I just wasted five hours learning that crappy Rituale. Why didn’t you do this in the first place?” He winced at his volume when his head protested with a nasty throb.  
  
Gabriel cackled and said happily, “Now where would the fun in that be?”  
  
Dean stared at him, one hand still cradling his head. “You beat all the weirdest things in my life.”  
  
“Thank you!” Gabriel said looking pleased as pie.  
  
“Yep,” Dean said. “Definitely the weirdest.”

*

  
It was already three days past the week Dad had said he’d be gone for. They were running low on spaghetti-Os, Sam had already eaten all the re-heated pizza for breakfast yesterday and they were down to twelve dollars and forty seven cents.  
  
Dean had already tried calling Dad three times and Pastor Jim and Uncle Bobby once each, but there was nothing on Dad’s end. Pastor Jim and Uncle Bobby had no clue either, although they said they would keep their eyes peeled and ears out.  
  
He was thirteen and starving. Sam was going start going hungry in a couple of days if Dad didn’t get back. Repressing a shiver, Dean refused to consider whether Dad might come back injured.  
  
Making up his mind, Dean checked back on Sammy, peering through the doorway to see his little brother with his nose buried in another book. Sammy wouldn’t be resurfacing for a while yet. Good.  
  
“I’m gonna go get more stuff from the store,” Dean said to the cover of Sam’s book.  
  
The top of Sammy’s scruffy head just nodded distractedly.  
  
Dean backed away and hunted for his duffle. Rummaging inside for a knife, he slipped one into his boot, strapped another one around his ankle and stripped off his favourite tee-shirt and scrounged around for a clean, more form fitting shirt. Gabriel had taken him along for some of his ‘jobs’ involving this. Dean knew what he was doing.  
  
He’d have to lift some more supplies from the corner shop though, no way any shop keeper would sell rubbers to a kid.  
  
Dean had barely set a foot outside the apartment before he was suddenly in the middle of a luxury penthouse staring at Gabriel. Dean’s stomach flipped alarmingly. “Fuck, I hate it when you do that,” Dean croaked.  
  
Gabriel rolled his eyes and conjured up a wastepaper bin and Dean gagged a little as his body rebelled against the sudden flight it’d experienced.  
  
“Those weren’t the tricks I wanted you to learn from me,” Gabriel said dryly when Dean finished retching and glared up. “If you needed help all you had to do was ask.”  
  
His muscles feeling like jello and his mood and mouth both pretty foul right now, Dean snapped back, “I can take care of myself.”  
  
“Suure.” Gabriel dragged the word out, sarcasm dripping off it like acid.  
  
“I can,” Dean ground out.  
  
Gabriel’s expression was equally thunderous. The fancy lights of the penthouse flickered, the light bulbs buzzing frantically. “I punish those assholes who take advantage of kids, and yet you’d willingly seek them out? Are you nuts?”  
  
“I’m taking care of my family!”  
  
“Well so am I!”  
  
That made Dean pause. What?  
  
“You blind idiot,” Gabriel sighed, and with a crisp sounding snap they were back in front of the crappy apartment Dad had rented.  
  
Dean’s face went ashen again, and Gabriel patted his shoulder, easing the queasiness. As Dean’s stomach steadied, his eyes refocused to see that there were shopping bags with the same logo as the local grocery store, filled with enough food to last at least two weeks at his feet.  
  
Dean’s throat tightened, and he stubbornly ignored the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Just a leftover reaction from the pagan inter-dimensional warping. “Thanks,” Dean said hoarsely, the word scraped out, honest and raw.  
  
Smiling slightly, Gabriel said, “Your dad’ll be back soon. Take better care of yourself, Dee.”  
  
Scrubbing at his eyes to rid the lingering moisture, Dean tried not to glance back at the empty space where Gabriel had just been standing. Unlocking the door, Dean scooped up his haul and shouldered his way in, taking care not to mess up the salt line.  
  
But he couldn’t stop smiling. He was almost bursting with happiness. Gabriel considered Dean to be part of his family.  
  
“Come on, Sammy!” Dean hollered, sifting through all the goodies and his eyes lit up. “There’s more lucky charms. We need to celebrate!”

 

*

“Hey, kiddo, what’s up?” Gabriel said, appearing suddenly by Dean’s shoulder.  
  
Dean scowled at him after nearly coughing up a much needed lung from choking on his half eaten apple. “Fuck you, Gabriel.”  
  
“You should’ve seen your face!” Gabriel said, wiping tears from his eyes. “That’ll never get old, I swear.” He disappeared from Dean’s side to resituate himself on the rooftop railing, kicking his heels back onto the wire mesh.  
  
Twitching slightly, Dean determinedly didn’t look down. He liked the view from the school science building, it was the highest there was in this shitty town, and the landscape stretched out for miles. So long as he didn’t have to look ‘down’ from more than three stories up.  
  
“Don’t you have class, Dee?” Gabriel asked, curiosity plain in his voice, but there was a sly glint in his inhuman, golden eyes. “Becoming quite the truant, aren’t you?”  
  
Dean stared mulishly at Gabriel and took another bite of his apple. Perhaps Gabriel shouldn’t have shown Dean the underbelly of humanity. Dean was overtly realist but an optimist at heart, but his view on the world was so vastly different it showed in the way he interacted with people on any longer than the first impression and the few hours contact dictated by a hunt.  
  
Though a charmer and perceptive, Dean didn’t get along with his peers very well. Children didn’t like others who were good, who stood up for their beliefs. At thirteen, Dean had a bleaker view of the world than most adults three times his age. Gabriel guessed it also didn’t help that he showed up whenever Dean decided to ditch class.  
  
Gabriel smirked. “Wanna tag along then? I’ve got work to do, we can’t all be lazy bums like you.”  
  
Dean blinked slowly and swallowed. “Fine, just let me finish my apple first. Pagan teleportation still makes me want to ralph every time.”  
  
“Seriously,” Gabriel sighed. “This thing you have with flying’s got to stop. What wrong with a little wind and altitude?”  
  
Scowling viciously, Dean bit straight into the bitter core of the apple, the pips popping against his teeth. “A five thousand foot drop and ending up as a bloody human pancake for one.”  
  
Gabriel just chuckled. “I’ll catch you even if I do happen to let you fall.” He rubbed his hands together with glee. “Done? Up, up, up! Now hang on tight, we’re off to see the wizard!”  
  
In the space of one heart beat and another, Dean cracked his eyes open, quelling his mutinous stomach and said dryly. “Guess we’re not in Kansas anymore.”  
  
“Just at the puce coloured witch’s evil abode,” Gabriel said glibly.  
  
“And remember what we talked about before?”  
  
Gabriel flapped a hand in Dean’s direction. “Sure, sure. No killing witches.”  
  
Dean paused. “Is she actually a witch?” He scanned the small apartment Gabriel had brought them to suspiciously, trying to catch sight of any black altars with dead animal body parts or musty Grimoires lying around conspicuously. But there was nothing incriminating here that Dean could see would warrant the Trickster’s brand of justice.  
  
“Well…no.” Shrugging, Gabriel made a face. “She’s certainly evil enough. Can’t we kill her just a little bit?”  
  
“No!”  
  
Gabriel pouted, even pulled out Sammy’s best kicked puppy look. He might have to admit he’d used it too often as he stared into Dean’s unmoved and unimpressed face.  
  
“Fine,” Gabriel pouted some more. “But you’d want to choke her with Death’s shroud itself once you hear what she’s done. Little missy’s been a very busy,  _very_  bad little girl.”  
  
Dean’s expression was tense, and there was something like heartbreak in his eyes. Like he couldn’t believe there were people in the world who were just as bad as the monsters he hunted. “Tell me.”  
  
Gabriel’s smile was utterly humourless. “Oh I’ll do you one better than that. I’ll show you.”

 

*

  
Dean ground his teeth as he watched Miss Amanda Coil burst out of her office, her hair in disarray, one gilded gold earring missing and eyes crazed, shouting profanities. His stomach was sick from more than just watching all the things she did and the pagan instantaneous travelling.  
  
At the top of her voice, local high school counsellor Ms Coil screamed about how she wished every student in the school would suffer like the wretched, miserable creatures she knew them to be.  
  
“I wish she were a witch, so I could kill her,” Dean gritted out.  
  
“Too bad she’s one hundred percent human. Her method’s boringly human too. Well maybe not so boring. You sure you don’t want to reconsider…?”  
  
Biting his lip, Dean shook his head.  
  
“One kid is already dead because of her, many more with their whole selves systematically taken apart and belittled. She’s poison,” Gabriel said softly. “Like a viper dripping its venom into a barrel of apples.”  
  
They watched as she reeled off the intimate, vulnerable secrets students confided with Ms Coil in confidence. All the students she named and spewed derogatory abuse about, cringed back, crying visibly with misery and shame.  
  
Dean looked furious, heartsick and upset all at once. He stepped forward, as though wanting to comfort the other kids, forgetting that they weren’t visible under Gabriel’s enchantment.  
  
“She doesn’t need mercy. And those kids need justice.”  
  
“Fine, then. I can’t stop you. You’re the fucking pagan god here!” Dean spat, he crossed his arms and held them close against his torso, hands clenched into his worn tee-shirt. “Just take me back. I won’t watch you kill another human being ever again.”  
  
“Dean,” Gabriel said and stopped. It was true. He did want to kill her. Loki wanted to kill her. This woman was dragging pure souls through the mud then damning them to hell. She was brilliant, undoubtedly the best at twisting the psyches of adolescent and she goddamn enjoyed the rush of power when she toyed with the kids.  
  
“Nobody deserves to die,” Dean said steadily. “But it doesn’t mean you can’t make her hurt.”  
  
“An eye for an eye?” Gabriel asked, more than just a little eager. He hadn’t realized Dean was so old-testament justice.  
  
“No, make her actually help the kids,” Dean said, gritting the words out. “She hates that the most, watching others be happy, healing and going places while she’s stuck with her long miserable life.”  
  
Gabriel smiled. “I like the way you think, Dee.”  
  
“Can you make that happen?”  
  
“It’s a done deal,” Gabriel replied with a mean little smile.  
  
Ms Coil was still raving, but one of the other teachers had called security, and all the students in the hallway were staring at their counsellor, wide-eyed and frozen. When the police arrived, they would find recordings of every session she had with every single student, a full confession to all the things she’d committed, and a signed agreement that she’d give all her assets towards the reparations of any harm she’d done.  
  
“What about the kid, the one you showed me,” Dean said. “The one who hung himself…Will he become a spirit?”  
  
Gabriel shook his head, and as Dean cast one last look at the councilor, Gabriel brought them to the grassy rolling plains of Scotland. Nothing here for miles except the odd rabbit and sheep.  
  
“He went with the area’s local reaper.” To hell, Gabriel didn’t say. Where all suicides went if they were collected by the reapers.  
  
Dean didn’t say anything to that, keeping his eyes fixed resolutely on the grass.  
  
Gabriel was starting to feel he shouldn’t have brought Dean along. This wasn’t what Gabriel wanted to show Dean. He’d wanted to share the experience with Dean, punishing and exterminating evil. Like what Dean did with John. But this was different, it wasn’t even in the same room as fun.  
  
This was excruciating, and Gabriel hated it. For a moment, Gabriel hated Dean too, for ruining the only thing that made hiding on Earth bearable. But glancing at Dean’s face, he suddenly felt a rush of guilt and shame. “You still have three classes left. Do you want to go back?” Gabriel asked.  
  
“No.” Dean bit his lip. “Take me with you to the rest.”  
  
Gabriel placed a hand on Dean’s thin shoulder, and the teenager leaned into it gratefully, the downward tilt of his head oddly vulnerable. Gabriel’s heart twinged slightly, but he only snapped his fingers and said, “Alright.”

 

*

  
“Dean!” Jim called out; managing to clasp one hand around John’s eldest’s shoulder before the kid sneaked off.  
  
The boy turned around with a smile that was equal charm and cheek, but it was also a little sheepish. “Pastor Jim!” Dean sounded so surprised and his face was pure innocence. “Did you need me for something?”  
  
Butter wouldn’t melt in the kid’s mouth, but there was something faraway in Dean’s eyes, like he wasn’t entirely here. As though he was listening to something nobody else could hear. That suspicion sent a slight fission of unease down Jim’s spine, but Dean’s habit of sneaking out by himself had been occurring ever since John had brought his sons along the first time. No harm had ever come to Dean before.  
  
Dean’s body was still angled towards the arched entrance, leaning ever so slightly away, eager to be out the church’s doorways.  
  
Jim released Dean with a sigh. He supposed it would be boring for an active teenager like Dean to sit around while Jim and Sam were content with their books all day. It was also a fine day of summer. Perhaps it would be best to let Dean tire himself out. Jim certainly wouldn’t miss the sibling squabbles Dean and Sam would get up to when Dean was bored.  
  
“Keep safe, and don’t wander off too far,” Jim warned, trying to keep his tone stern.  
  
“I’ll be good, Pastor Jim,” Dean promised, but there was a bright gleam in his eye that said otherwise. He tilted his head, rocking on his feet, looking ready to bolt outside. His sun-bleached blond hair had grown longer since the last time John had given his sons military cuts and the locks of hair flopped over Dean’s eyes, hiding the mischief that lurked beneath the surface.  
  
Jim fought to keep the twitch of his mouth hidden. The precocious little rascal. “Run along now.”  
  
Dean flashed Jim another dazzling, disarming smile and disappeared out the doorway and into the sunlight.  
  

*

  
Gabriel was constantly being amazed by Dean, especially now Dean lived in the shadowed reality of his world, filled with pain, blood and the worst nightmares the world had to offer.  
  
Dean’s soul, like everyone else’s, had lost the beautiful sheen of white purity of the newborn, but amazingly, it retained its radiance in a grayer shade. It had become strong, burnished steel rather than tarnishing, forged under the slow burn of fighting back the scum of hell.  
  
Usually the right circumstances never came together, or a promising soul was led astray by the smallest wrong decision. John Winchester had been one such candidate, and Gabriel had watched him too, but John was like zinc plated iron, the harsh deals of life chipping away at his shield and rotting him from the inside.  
  
Gabriel didn’t know if Dean was blessed or cursed to have remained so good. Gabriel didn’t know whether to rejoice or weep that Dean had not been warped from the beautiful soul he’d possessed as a child, and the knowledge of the pain Dean would suffer if he continued on this hard, narrow path.  
  
Gabriel had watched humanity stumble and fall for centuries, an internal flaw of theirs that paradoxically kept them safe. For if there was no Righteous soul, the first seal remained unbroken. And yet, Dean defied all expectations, his soul strong, pure and with such a strong sense of righteousness. Dean, who, did not fall into temptation, would be the one who’d deliver them all to evil.  
  
But Dean was not without flaws, he angered too quickly. Loved too deeply. However, he was passionate and inspiring to watch, railing against the injustice and unfairness with explosive energy.  
  
There was also the ridiculous sweet tooth he had, and all the trappings that came with it, but that was Gabriel’s fault, he’d encouraged their shared love for all things sweet.  
  
Dean kept himself righteous through sheer willpower and that innate moral compass, compassion that shone clearly for him even in the darkest parts of his life.  
   

*

  
“Why haven’t you told anyone about me?” Gabriel flicked Dean on the forehead and changed Dean’s nose into a red rubber clown’s nose. He squeezed it, and it honked. Dean squawked indignantly until Gabriel managed to stop laughing long enough to change it back.  
  
Dean kicked Gabriel’s shin, his socked feet bouncing off harmlessly.  
  
“Bastard,” Dean scowled. Yeah, Gabriel hadn’t been the best role model with language. He’d taken Dean on a few of his trickster side jobs, pointing out various scumbags and their putrid souls already carrying the stink of the pit.  
  
“Just messing with you, kiddo,” Gabriel replied but noticed Dean hadn’t replied.  
  
Dean had been surprisingly tight-lipped about Gabriel, not breathing a word to even Mary back before the fire. Now, even with the confirmation that supernatural beings did exist, that there were actual monsters along with the human monsters that Gabriel showed Dean and punished accordingly. Still, Dean hadn’t told anyone about Gabriel during the fifteen years Gabriel had hung around.  
  
“Do you want to know what I am?” Gabriel asked, watching Dean closely.  
  
Dean’s soul flared up, blindingly bright. “You’re Gabriel,” Dean said crossly, but his voice wobbled slightly on his next words, unsure, “You’re my family.”  
  
“Even though your dad and brother don’t know about me?”  
  
Dean looked torn, biting his lip.  
  
“It’s foolish to not tell them. You know I’m not human.”  
  
Dean’s expression cleared, his stubbornness rearing up again. His loyalty and faith would be his downfall one day. “You’re Gabriel,” Dean repeated, the look in his eyes steady, like that was all that mattered. To Dean, it probably did make all the difference.  
  
Gabriel chuckled, the knot of tension he didn’t even realize existed, eased. “Let me tell you a secret then.”  
  
Gabriel inhaled deeply, straightening his back and gathered the grace he’d been suppressing for centuries while hiding on Earth. While his wings were tucked away deeply inside his vessel, never mind that they were more metaphysical representations of his grace, just like his ‘halo’, they still ached like a phantom limb. Angels who took vessels usually had more space, but Gabriel had been doing his damned hardest to compact himself and stay under the radar.  
  
So when he allowed the first trickle of grace out, the air shifted and Dean stiffened, feeling the atmospheric heaviness, their surroundings brimming with leashed power.  
  
“This might hurt a bit,” Gabriel warned, flattening his palm against Dean’s chest. Gasping, Dean’s knees buckled and Gabriel steadied him smoothly. “Know me, I am הקדושים.”  
  
The sounds hung in the air  _ha-qodeshim_ ancient and echoing with power.  
  
Dean was trembling, looking at Gabriel with something like awe dawning in his eyes.  
  
“Keep faith with me, invoke, גַּבְרִיאֵל and I will answer. This is my covenant to you.” Gabriel closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to Dean’s brow. “Blessed be, Dean Winchester, for thou art righteous and deserving.”  
   

*

  
_Since you know me now, biblically and all, I better put a ring on you so you don’t run off with the next pretty thing with wings. Just a little something as a show of faith._

_\- Gabriel the Archangel aka Loki aka your personal pain in the ass :)_

  
“Son of a bitch,” Dean chuckled as he read the note Gabriel left for him and picked up the silver ring. There was an almost supernatural brilliance to the silver shine of it and he held it up against the window, watching it catch the light, and the reflected beams bounced off the motel walls crisp and vivid against the shadows.  
  
On closer inspection, there were tiny inscriptions crammed on the inner surface that Dean couldn’t decipher but he had a feeling he knew what they meant.  
  
With a smile, Dean put it on. It was a perfect fit.


	2. Chapter 2

There had been a few Righteous souls throughout the centuries, souls that died saints, martyrs. But none of the circumstances had been right. Those that were Righteous had gone straight to Heaven. There was no chance to shed blood in Hell.

Those that were tempted down were no longer Righteous, so they did not break the seal either. The Righteous one had to remain pure, and somehow against impossible odds, Dean had managed that.

Dean turned around so fast he nearly fell off his barstool. “Gabriel!” he slurred, slamming his shot glass onto the slightly sticky countertop. He waved enthusiastically at the angel approaching him from the bar’s entrance.

Eying the shot glass, the half bottle of tequila and Dean’s flushed, glassy expression, Gabriel hopped onto the empty seat beside Dean. “What’re you doing here? You don’t drink, Dee.”

“I do now,” Dean said, listing dangerously to the side. Gabriel snagged the fabric of Dean’s jacket easily, steadying him. “I’m not fucking drunk enough to deal with my shitty life.”

Sighing, Gabriel waved the bartender over for a martini and two olives and immediately downed the drink.

“Sammy’s gone, and Dad left,” Dean said conversationally, pouring more tequila and knocking it back in one swallow. “And after Dad left, I went to see Sammy, to make sure he was safe at that college of his. Gotta watch out for Sammy.”

Dean looked at Gabriel expectantly, seeking…sympathy? Acknowledgment? Approval?

Gabriel flagged the bartender for another martini. He narrowed his eyes when he saw that the bartender was too busy serving beers for what looked like under-aged brats, so he refilled his own glass complete with fresh olives straight from the orchards of Greece.

Lowering his eyes, Dean fiddled with his glass. A little bewildered and hurt, Dean divulged, “He looked so happy. So goddamn happy to forget about m- us. Having a grand ole time with his 'real boy', college co-ed life.”

He knocked back another shot with the grimness of those seeking to get well and truly drunk.

Gabriel grimaced as he drained his martini, chewing on his olives. “Slow down there, Dee. I won’t whammy your killer hangover away tomorrow.”

“Whatever,” Dean snorted, glaring down at the rim of his glass. He slanted his glare at Gabriel. “You know, after I checked in on Sam, I tracked down Dad, thinking he’d probably need my help on a hunt or something.”

Dean prodded a shaky finger into Gabriel’s chest. Wryly, Gabriel watched as Dean muttered ‘ow’ and sucked on his sore finger.

Shoulders slumping, Dean said, “Dad was in Windom, Minnesota. Here of all places.” Dean flapped his hand around the bar for emphasis. “Well, not here here. But he was fucking fishing with this little kid. I thought he was working some angle for a job. I thought…I thought he might’ve needed my help. Family should stick together, especially after Sammy…”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Gabriel said firmly, prying the tequila bottle and shot glass from Dean’s hands. “Come on, you poor schmuck. Let’s get you home.”

Dean blinked rapidly, staring at his empty hands as Gabriel threw down some cash for the drinks. “Don’t have a home,” Dean said blankly.

Urging Dean onto his unsteady feet, Gabriel steered him through the tricky maze of tables and picked their way through the inconsiderate legs stretched out onto the walkways.

“Remember your baby?” Gabriel manhandled Dean so that he was staring into the shiny black paint of the door to the driver’s seat. “She’s your home, remember? She loves you very much too.”

Dean smiled crookedly, the bleakness in his eyes lifting slightly. He touched the silver handle lightly. “Sorry, baby,” Dean said seriously, enunciating the words with the careful preciseness of the drunk.

Bundling Dean into the seat, Gabriel told him, “Think of a safe place.”

Dean tilted his head. “There’s two. But one of them chased me off with buckshot. So, not safe anymore.”

“Of course not,” Gabriel agreed.

Dean closed his already drooping eyes, reaching for Gabriel and almost tipped himself into Gabriel’s lap. “Blue Earth.”

Gabriel sucked in a breath. “Of course. Family.”

“Safe,” Dean mumbled sleepily, slumping against Gabriel’s side. He looked exhausted, and his skin was bone white except for two spots of colour high on his cheekbones, and the dark ring of shadows circling under Dean’s eyes. The stupid kid had driven across half the country for his family, only to find himself lost.

“I know, Dee,” Gabriel said, even though he couldn’t understand how Dean continued to equate safety with family, when the other members of his family had already hurt him so much.

It took briefest application of Gabriel’s will to move them to Blue Earth, and just as Gabriel was prepared to pry Dean out of the car, he noticed Dean staring at him, the expression on his face surprisingly sober considering the amount of alcohol still in his system.

“You leave; you always leave,” Dean said quietly. His green eyes were nearly luminescent in the pale light of the streetlamps streaming in through the Impala’s windscreen.

“Yes,” Gabriel agreed.

Dean closed his eyes, swallowing visibly. It was as clear as day what Dean was thinking. My family always leaves.

“But you come back. That’s what you do. You always come back.” There was something approaching hope and an almost child-like wonder in his hushed voice.

“You know I will,” Gabriel said.

Wavering between doubt and hope, Dean gave a self-deprecating smile in response.

Even with Dean relatively docile and obedient to Gabriel’s prodding, it still took the better part of ten minutes for Gabriel to Dean out of the car and up the pathway and the stone steps to the church.

Another issue Gabriel had to contend with was how terribly his vessel’s skin was itching, due to his proximity to hallowed ground. Also, with Dean staunchly refusing to let go of Gabriel’s shirt, his clothes were wrinkled beyond repair. But Gabriel couldn’t leave Dean right now, not while Dean was like this.

Drawing in an unnecessary breath, Gabriel tamped down on his trepidation and grace and lifted his hand to knock on the doors of one of his Father’s houses.

As they waited for Pastor Jim to unlock the doors and welcome them in, Dean whispered, “Thank you.”

Gabriel smiled crookedly. “You won’t thank me in the morning. I wasn’t kidding when I said I won’t cure whatever hangover you’re going to get.”

*

True to his word, Gabriel didn’t do anything for Dean’s headache but cackle manically until Pastor Jim finally took pity on Dean and procured some Advil for the boy.

But while suffering the wondrous phenomenon of the hangover, Dean was free to swear profusely and mope about all he wanted. And if Dean was acting more bitter about the world, sunlight, loud noises or Gabriel in general than an ordinary post-drunk person would be, well, nobody mentioned it.

*

Gabriel had always been too nosy for his own good. Humanity had made him soft, made him bend rules that had been set in stone by his Father since the beginning. Dean had made him reckless. Any meddlings in time that weren’t sanctioned by the host were forbidden. But Gabriel hadn’t obeyed orders in centuries.

So Gabriel succumbed to the temptation and dipped into the time stream, carefully and with determination. He watched the years scroll forward, shifting between seconds and decades.

Then he got careless and Gabriel found himself standing face to face with Michael.

When the fabrics of time and space bent and peeled back around him, fifteen years in the future, Michael was waiting there for him, dressed in an impeccable charcoal grey suit, patient, with disappointment shining out of the bright white light where Dean’s eyes should have been.

“Brother,” Gabriel said, the words like ash in his mouth.

He felt numb as he took in how unsettlingly ill-fitting and yet how unsettlingly fitting Dean’s thirty year old body was on Michael.

With an alien and unnerving grace, Michael tipped Dean’s head forward in acknowledgment. “Little brother, you should have known better. The matters of time are under my domain. Did you really believe I would not notice?”

It was Dean’s voice, but it was overlaid with Michael’s blinding divinity, rendering Dean’s voice heartbreakingly beautiful. It was exultation of angels and it was also the great dirge heralding the end of all ends. Gabriel shuddered to hear it.

“You hadn’t seemed to care before,” Gabriel muttered stiffly, glaring poison at Michael, the overpowering brightness that was the archangel insinuated into Dean’s body.

“Certainly not for the games you play with the pagan filth you consort with,” Michael commented, derision visible in the slight downward slant of his eyebrows. There was a dark twist to Dean’s mouth. “But you overstep your bounds, trying to claim what is not yours. The sacred bond you tried to sever between me and my True Vessel? That is an unforgivable sin, Gabriel.”

“Don’t,” Gabriel growled, the roar of the ocean tides rumbling in his voice, his vessel’s hands shaking.

“You cannot stop what is meant to be. The vessel is mine and always will be. You have always been too impetuous for your own good.”

“Stop referring to Dean as a vessel!” Gabriel shouted. Dean, who Gabriel could not even seen the slightest speck of. Dean.

Michael only said again, haunting and lovely, “My vessel?” and smiled. It was a horrible parody of the smile that Gabriel so loved.

“See what your ugly covetousness has brought you,” Michael said, an undercurrent of censure in his too perfect, flawless face, like the swift, black waters hidden under a river’s frozen surface, fathoms deep and dangerous. “You’ve always known this was inevitable. Brother, repent and I will show mercy.”

Michael had broken Dean, taken Dean as his visage upon Earth not for the apocalypse. He hadn’t eradicated Dean’s soul as a casualty in this messed up family dinner fight. Michael had destroyed Dean just to teach Gabriel a lesson. Michael had always been a controlling sanctimonious prick.

“Fuck you,” Gabriel spat, but he did nothing, because even if it was his brother’s liquid shining white eyes staring out from Dean’s face, the body was still Dean’s. Gabriel could never hurt any part of Dean.

“I love my brothers, no matter how far off the path they’ve gone,” Michael continued saying, sadness filtering into his lovely, unearthly voice. The radiance of Michael’s glowing white eyes dimmed slightly. “This vessel of mine will be your downfall. I could not have abided by your ruin unmoved.”

“You should never have touched him,” Gabriel hissed. “There’s something you’ve never understood and never will. You don’t know what it’s like to love. And that’s why I will choose Dean again and again no matter what you do. So fuck you, Michael. Fuck you.”

Michael’s countenance grew stony, the beginnings of fury sparking around Dean’s body. “Repent, Gabriel,” Michael said slowly, and the sparks gathered like dying embers, shifting and glowing.

Gabriel would die before he’d allow this future come to pass and he only bared his teeth in a snarl, unfolding his own wings in response to Michael’s glorious display of might and power. Vibrant tongues of fire wrapped around Dean’s arms, traveling up his neck and extending in streaks of methane blue and white hot flames exploding outwards behind Dean’s back like a dying star, a supernova of pure grace and energy.

“So be it,” Michael snarled, finally true emotion lighting in his white eyes. The air was stifling in the heat of his wrath, but the angels stood unaffected while the environment shriveled and blackened under the onslaught of unleashed power. “The host renounces you, I will strike you down where you stand.”

Gabriel regarded his brother grimly and said, “You can try.”

The unleashing of Gabriel’s grace essentially meant Gabriel had reestablished connection with the host again. The multitude of his siblings’ presence pressed in on him.

The crackle snap of Raphael, a growl of thunder.

The pillar of heat, the overbearing sun that was Michael.

But the deafening howl of Lucifer’s constant rage was gone.

“What happened to Lucifer?” Gabriel snapped.

Michael’s eyes were heavy lidded, almost sensual. He seemed slightly regretful. “I put him down and I will do the same to you if you don’t see the error of your ways. Don’t force my hand, Gabriel.”

*

Gabriel tumbled back into his own time, barely escaping Michael’s wrath. Quickly masking his presence, he dived back into the folds of time, ducking and jumping through timelines, information flashing through his mind.

When he finally felt it was safe and that he’d shaken off Michael’s annoying goons, he stepped back into his time.

His mouth pressed together thinly, Gabriel set to work. Things were going to be worse than he thought.

The demonic virus, the hellgate opening, Lillith opening one lock after another.

Dean screaming in hell.

Dean breaking under Michael’s merciless foot and saying yes.

Gabriel needed help.

*

Anna screamed.

The golden haired man narrowed his eyes at her and snapped his fingers. “Anael,” he said.

She stared, plastered against the wall, petrified at the sudden appearance of the strange man in the middle of her room.

“What do you want?” she said, her voice raspy with fear. Fright was choking her, her room was suddenly too small and too big all at once and she didn’t think she had it in her to scream again. Why weren’t her parents here? Didn’t they hear her?

The stranger cocked his head, all messy curly blond locks, and smiled. “I sent them back to sleep, sister.”

Anna stuttered, “S-sister?” She groped around, trying to find something that would save her from this madman. All she found was her table and her hand bumped against the solid shape of her bible and her rosary tangled around her fingers.

The man rolled his eyes and muttered, “Of course, my mistake.” And he snapped his fingers again.

Anna’s mouth fell open in shock. This wasn’t her bedroom! The dampness of the soil was freezing against her bare feet and the loam snuck in between her toes. She was somehow on the top of hill with a large oak tree, the stranger and nothing but dense woodlands for what seemed like miles.

“I-I must be dreaming,” Anna said dazedly, clutching at her rosary like a lifeline.

The man snorted, “Keep thinking that, sister.” He crossed his arms and glowered at her, and the colour of his eyes was startling, a molten, uncanny gold not unlike what birds of prey with their predatory stare had. “I don’t like using force, Anael, but if you don’t touch that tree. I’ll have to hurt you.”

Anna didn’t know what to say. Some crazy man had appeared in her room, abducted her and was now threatening her to feel up the tree.

“Well?” the man said, raising an eyebrow.

Oh what the hell. A little numbly, Anna trudged up to the tree and dithered, eyed it doubtfully.

“Anael!” the man barked and Anna flinched.

She turned around to pin him with a glare. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Cause that’s your name, stupid. You kind of lost your marbles after that nasty Fall of yours.”

Anna furrowed her brow. “I haven’t hit my head.”

The man threw up his hands and looked skyward in exasperation. “Father, who art not in heaven, give me strength.”

Squirming uncomfortably and feeling a little embarrassed and confused, Anna grumbled as she turned back to the tree. “I’ll kill you if this tree gives me treeitis or something.”

The man laughed. “You can try.”

She drew in a big breath and laid both hands on the bark.

For a split second, the ground trembled and wide-eyed, Anna watched as her world exploded in white.

Terribly beautiful, a cold, pure, dazzling light…

…That bastard Gabriel!

*

“Well?” Gabriel asked smugly, smirking.

“You bastard, you fucking bastard!” Anael cursed, heartfelt. “You’re such a fucking liar.”

“Love you too, sister.”

“I liked being human!” Anael shrieked and was tempted to try and smite the bastard despite the futility. Or at least throttle him with her rosary. Unfortunately, her archangel brother would squash her like a bug. “Who gave you the right?”

“Ah ah, lil sis,” Gabriel said mockingly. “That’s the beauty of renegade angels and free will. We get to do what ever the fuck we want.”

Anna scowled at him. Her fingers twitched. Just one tiny little strike of lightning wouldn’t hurt would it? It’d certainly would make her feel better.

Gabriel smiled sadly at her. “I missed you, Anael. And I need your help. If you like being human so much, then you need to come with me, otherwise there won’t be much of a earth for you to be human on.”

“You mean…?” Anna said quietly.

“The wheels are a turning,” Gabriel said just as softly. “It’s the end of the world as we know it.”

Anna rubbed the beads of her rosary, a comfort gesture, a human one that she indulged in however briefly. She wound the length of the rosary around two fingers before slipping it off and tucking it safely away in her pocket. Anael straightened, looking Gabriel in the eye. “Alright. What would you have me do?”


	3. Chapter 3

Dean hunched down in the driver’s seat, eyes clenched tight as he tried to think of something, anything that he hadn’t tried yet.

Dad was supposed to check in last Tuesday and it was nearing the third week now that Dean hadn’t heard back from him. There wasn’t even the slightest blip on his plethora of cell phones, nothing from his informants, and, thankfully, nothing in the obituaries about a John Doe resembling John Winchester.

That didn’t rule out being trapped by some nasty witch or a grisly death by monster of the week.

Suspended in ignorance, Dean was nearing his breaking point. Dean hated this whole fucked up situation, just wandering around aimlessly wasting petrol and hoping to stumble upon his father by chance. He was this close to just jumping into the car to barge into Sammy’s apple-pie, real boy college life and drag his brother and his smarts along to find their dad.

Because Dean couldn’t lose Dad on top of Sammy.

Dean had just turned the keys in the ignition, relaxing slightly as the Impala rumbled to life, her finely tuned engine a low contented purr when Gabriel appeared in the back seat, sprawled out like he was the one who owned the damn car. On top of his disrespect to the Impala, he was crunching on a stripy orange candy-cane of all things.

“Hey, Dee,” Gabriel smirked.

Dean scowled back through the rear mirror. “Get anything on the upholstery and I’ll shove that candy where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“Missed you too,” Gabriel said, still wearing that unholy smirk and snapped off a piece with his titanium-strength, unnaturally white teeth, the hard candy crunching obnoxiously loudly.

A muscle in Dean’s clenched jaw twitched in irritation, and he turned off the ignition because, damn, fuel was expensive, and Dean only had a crumpled twenty dollar bill in his jeans left last time he checked.

“What is it?” he asked impatiently, already mapping out the way to Sam’s crappy apartment in Palo Alto in his head.

Gabriel dropped the attitude for a split second, narrowing his eyes to scan the situation and snorted, “Give it up, Dean. No need to grovel for little brother’s help. I know exactly where dear John is.”

That got Dean’s attention. “Just,” Dean swallowed, and suddenly wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer now that he could. He wasn’t sure which would be worse. “Just tell me if he’s okay.”

“You know he isn’t,” Gabriel said.

Dean bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes flashing. “Just tell me if he’s safe. Does he need any help? Is he hurt?”

Gabriel shrugged, but the look in his eyes was kind. “Hate to break it to you, but he’s fine. Seems like he bailed before he got into any trouble.”

Swallowing, Dean rolled with the pain because that was just what Dean fucking Winchester did, and made himself ask. “Where was he then, before he - bailed?” Dean’s voice was husky.

The candy vanishing, Gabriel sat up straight and Dean leaned into the hand Gabriel settled on his shoulder. “We’ll be there in a flash.”

*

“Here we are in this lovely small town Centennial in Jericho, Cali. You can just feel the love can’t you. And wow, would you look at that!” Gabriel whistled lowly, “Someone was obsessed.” He spun in a slow circle, taking in the walls covered in newspaper clippings from ceiling to floor.

Dean bit his lip to keep in the automatic defense of his father in. Because this was Gabriel, who was an equal opportunist with his attitude, no one was safe. Also, yeah, dad was obsessed. Everything about the case was pinned up, links and patterns highlighted, with pieces of string for extra visual emphasis. Detailed, thorough and yeah, Dean’d say it again, freaking obsessed. But that was what made the man so good.

The highlighted information jumped out at Dean, and he frowned, stepping closer to read the various reported deaths and statements. Then at dad’s theories.

Gabriel was clicking his tongue disapprovingly somewhere behind Dean, and Dean ignored him, focusing on making sense of the half done job dad had skipped out on.

“Ooh, lookit here,” Gabriel crowed. “Seems like darling Johnny forgot his diary.” He flipped through the first few pages, his voice dropping a few octaves as he read with John’s pitch perfect growl, “I went to Missouri and found the truth.” Gabriel scoffed, riffling through more pages. “Where’re all the deep dark chick-flicky secrets. Come on they’ve got to be here somewhere.”

Dean whirled around, snatching the battered journal from Gabriel. “Gimme that.” Incorrigible, that’s what Gabriel was, and the bastard with wings even had the gall to smirk at him.

There was a knock on the door, loud and demanding. The voice behind it wasn’t much better. Fuck, the local authorities.

“We better scram,” Gabriel said, sounding none too concerned about the police, who were gearing up to break down the door in around three seconds. “Pity, I was just getting cozy in John’s little hidey-hole.”

Dean palmed his face in exasperation. “Oh shut it.”

“Your wish is my command,” Gabriel said promptly, the biggest shit eating grin on his face, ever. “Aren’t you lucky to have your own pagan genie angel thingy.”

Dean just rolled his eyes heavenward and they both disappeared, all the things in the motel room vanishing, every hair, bit of dandruff and fingerprint all gone and wiped clean. Like cleaning service, only better.

*

Sighing wearily, Dean heaved himself back into the car after he’d changed out of his sopping wet clothes. The woman in white hadn’t dared make an appearance with the presence of a much stronger supernatural being hanging around. So after Dean shooed Gabriel away, he’d driven straight to the derelict house.

That pissed off lady ghost had showed up pretty snappily after that. “I can never go back,” she accused, her voice, static-y and hollow, echoed with grief. Madness and jilted fury shone in her eyes.

Dean shot off salt rounds, quick fire bursts, the retort deafening as the ghost howled in fury.

It was almost anti-climatic when the ghost’s ghostly children showed up and dragged her under, screaming.

Limping back to his car, swearing all the way, Dean popped the trunk and threw his shotgun in, then limped back to the driver’s seat. The cabinet the ghost had slammed into him had given him massive bruises that hurt like a bitch.

“Hey, you okay?” Gabriel asked, his worry showing as his hands touched Dean’s still bleeding head wound, then the bruised ribs.

“Where the hell’ve you been?” Dean’s voice was rough, and he’d never admit just how glad he was to see a familiar face. To see at least one part of his broken family.

Gabriel smiled crookedly. “Come on, handsome. Let’s get you fixed up.”

*

Again, it rang straight to voicemail, for both Sam and Dad. While Dean was used to mumbling a few sentences into voicemail, and Sam not picking up, he definitely wasn’t prepared for the sudden radio silence on both ends of his family. It’d been nearly a month since the last time Dad contacted him, if not for Gabriel, Dean would’ve gone mad a long time ago.

Dean cursed the fact that they were both stubborn idiots, and he never felt more alone, surrounded by miles upon miles of dense forest, a wendigo in the mood for snacks, and a family that refused to turn back and insisted on looking for their abducted brother.

Dean couldn’t help but feel jealous of Tommy Collins, never mind that the poor guy might be wendigo chow just about now.

“Get your head back in the game, soldier,” Dean whispered to himself.

“Did you say something?” Haley asked, casting a glance at Dean. She was huddled by the fire with her younger brother. Ben was curled up by her side, forehead resting against her shoulder and Haley had her arms wrapped around him protectively.

“Just, try and get some rest okay?” Dean said, gripping his shotgun. Lucky sons of bitches, Dean thought as he tried not looking at them. The envy was sharp and bitter as Dean forced it down in favour of the mission, focused on getting all these foolish civilians who’d wandered into wendigo hunting grounds out of here alive and ganking the fucking monster. “Don’t go past the symbols. That goes for you too, hotshot.”

Roy sneered at him, but he settled down and looked marginally less twitchy.

This whole thing was turning into a complete nightmare, but Dean knew when to thank his lucky stars.

*

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dean muttered, face ashen and hands clamped on the arm rests. “How’d I let you talk me into this?”

Gabriel was sucking on his lollipop, his eyebrow arched in amusement.

“Maybe because the airplane’s going to go down due to our extra passenger friend?”

“Where the fuck is my dad,” Dean groused. “He should be dealing with this, damnit. I hate flying.”

“Your fear’s duly noted,” Gabriel said dryly. “Now come on. The demon has an exorcism with its name on it.”

“You should just fucking smite the damn thing,” Dean gritted out, blanching even further when the airplane shuddered and jolted in turbulence. “Light its demonic ass with holy fire.”

“You got your lore mixed up, Dee,” Gabriel tutted. “Haven’t you learned anything from me?”

“Fine, next time I’ll remember to deep fry myself a crispy pain in the ass angel then,” Dean snapped back. “Glad we got that cleared up.”

Gabriel just grinned and patted the back of Dean’s hand, patronizing, and Dean gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached duly. “Twenty more minutes to go, hang tight. So…champagne?”

*

Seriously, Dean thought. How in the hell did he always get into sticky situations like this?

“You’re Loki’s boy,” the scarecrow said, raising its horrific face.

“And you’re fucking ugly,” Dean retorted, his hand tightening around his sawed-off, not that it’d do any good because damn, after that comment, he was pretty sure the talking scarecrow was a pagan god.

The scarecrow laughed, a raspy rustling sound, like bone dry tinder. “I’ll enjoy tearing you to shreds then, Loki’s boy.” There was a terrible tearing noise like rotten flesh being ripped apart as the scarecrow freed itself from its perch and raised its rusty scythe.

And yeah, he’d better start running fast, because being favoured by the Trickster was just about as useful as being adored by the Lady Bitch Bad Luck. Dean pivoted sharply and bolted through the rows of trees, low hanging branches whipping his arms and face and the whip thin cuts blooming across his skin stung like hell.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean muttered as he sprinted and tried to remember where the fucking exit was. The orchard was eerily silent, and Dean tried not to consider how deeply he was in the heart of the pagan god’s territory.

Dean barely managed to skid past the orchard boundaries when the rusty scythe buried itself into the soft earth where his feet had been moments before.

The scarecrow bared its foul, rotten teeth at him with a thwarted growl.

Dean stared as the pagan god tromped away to sulk about his escaped meal and wobbled back to his baby. He really needed to kill that freaking scarecrow.

*

Later, Gabriel would sigh, “Dee, you idiot,” but would still pour alcohol on Dean’s sluggishly bleeding gashes, heal the concussion and wipe away the bruise purpling Dean’s temple.

Dozing on his side, sprawled on the motel bed as Gabriel patched Dean’s cuts and grazes, Dean would lean in. Frankly, it was quite shameful; the way Dean turned his bruised face into Gabriel’s leg as though he were still a child.

But honestly, Dean was too tired to care.

No other words were said, and Gabriel didn’t draw away, was just this quiet and a warm, tangible presence beside Dean. Gabriel allowed the invasion of his space and person, even settled back against the pillows and headboard more comfortably, holding Dean in a loose embrace. Allowed Dean to pretend this was okay, at least for a little while.

One of Gabriel’s hands was slung around Dean’s upper arm, resting there with a gentleness that stung Dean’s eyes.

Dean was so goddamn grateful that Gabriel chose to humour Dean’s disgraceful behaviour, at least for this moment. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him without carnal intentions or blood lust as the driving force. If anyone did, it wasn’t much more than a brief manly clap on the back or an awkward exchange of hugs.

This was just simple affection. Dean squeezed his eyes tighter, and curled in closer.

*

Someone was invoking a summoning, his summoning. The one which Gabriel had painstakingly taught Dean. He could feel the strength of the call seeking his grace, desperate, powerful and filled with so much pain.

Even through the cracks and heavy folds of time, Gabriel could feel it. Still the call continued and Gabriel wondered just what happened that the Gabriel of the future would not heed it. It was a call that Gabriel would not refuse to heed lightly.

“Gabriel!”

Gabriel shuddered, the psychic wave of Dean’s call crashing down on him and he could resist it no longer. With a thought, he focused on Dean’s exact time and place. It would do no good to get lost in between, time travel without the backing of the host was dangerous enough, without the added grief pouring out through Dean’s summoning.

It took a while for Gabriel to gain bearing of his surroundings, but he opened his eyes to see Dean, older, pale and glassy eyed with grief.

“It’s you, it’s really you,” Dean said hoarsely.

The next thing Gabriel knew, Dean was wrapped up around him, arms looped across his back, his nose buried into the crook of Gabriel’s neck.

“You bastard.” Dean’s voice was muffled, his whole body shaking with minute tremors.

“Hush, you big baby,” Gabriel muttered, trying to calm Dean with a tendril of grace, but all he got was a nasty surprise and a stinging backlash.

Gabriel tried pushing Dean away, but Dean only clung on tighter, refusing to let go. Gabriel sighed irritably, and patted Dean’s back consolingly. His eyebrow twitched as he sent his grace back into Dean’s body to find the source of the interference. “You have my brother’s grace in you,” Gabriel said, when he finally pinpointed the gauche mark on Dean’s arm that radiated it.

Gabriel could feel his little brother’s grace all over Dean, threaded throughout his entire body.

Presumptuous little… Gabriel thought peevishly. Dean didn’t belong to anyone and if Dean was any angel’s, he would’ve been Gabriel’s.

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled.

Gabriel looked heavenward. “Yeah, who?” he demanded.

Dean mumbled something.

“What was that, Dee?” Gabriel raised his voice. “Who did you say again?”

Dean remained suspiciously silent.

But Gabriel could be patient. Dean never did very well with silence.

“Fine, but promise you won’t try to smite him,” Dean blurted, finally releasing Gabriel and shuffling back a little. “I owe him a lot.”

Gabriel only raised an eyebrow.

“It’s Cas,” Dean admitted grudgingly.

“Wait, Little Castiel?” Gabriel asked incredulously. He remembered that too solemn youngster. Emphasis on the young. “Huh.”

“He bailed me outta hell,” Dean said, seemingly unaware he was dropping the fucking apocalypse on Gabriel. “I owe him more than I can ever repay.”

“Hey,” Gabriel protested. “What about me? All the things I - ” Gabriel broke off, narrowing his eyes at the suspiciously straight face Dean was pulling. “Not funny, Dean. Not funny at all.”

Dean managed a small smile. “So you do care after all. And it was, a little bit. C’mon, admit it.”

Gabriel clenched his fist. “You went to hell,” Gabriel said flatly. “And Castiel raised you.” Where the fuck was I?

Dean shook his head, “That doesn’t matter anymore.” He never stopped looking at Gabriel, as though he were afraid Gabriel might vanish if he glanced away. “You, you’re here.”

Taking a breath, unnecessary, Gabriel knew, but it still worked to delay the inevitable. “Dee. I don’t belong here,” he said, as kindly as he could. How else can you break the news to a grieving man with abandonment issues miles long that he had to leave him behind again.

Dean’s eyes shone with pain, the fragile happiness shattering, shifting back to the all too familiar look of heartbreak and then settling on resignation. Dean looked so tired and hollow.

The fucking apocalypse.

“I’m going to change this,” Gabriel said. “I promise.”

“You can’t,” Dean said, sounding close to tears. “Cas, he showed me first hand.”

Gabriel snorted. “Watch me.”

Dean smiled, faint but it was there. “You know I always do.” He stepped close to hug Gabriel tightly again, Dean’s hands bunching up the back of Gabriel’s jacket. “Take care of yourself,” Dean whispered fiercely.

Gabriel closed his eyes briefly. “Dean- ”

Dean’s soul was radiant with his love. This was the Righteous Man, all the more strong for his weakness. “I have faith in you,” Dean whispered, a secret into Gabriel mouth. The kiss was soft, lingering and sweet, a heady combination of purity, courage and grief. Dean poured all his emotions into that all too brief goodbye. “Go,” Dean said, his smile bittersweet. “Before I decide not to let you go anymore. Go.”

And Gabriel did, too surprised and dazed to do anything else.

*

Dean was on the nearest highway out of St Louis, pulling irritably at his cheap tie when Gabriel suddenly appeared in the front seat beside him.

“I think it’s time for a vacation don’t you agree?” Gabriel asked with a bright grin.

A muscle in Dean’s jaw twitched, but that was it. “Not now, Gabriel,” Dean said warningly.

“What’s the matter? Someone pissed in your wheaties again?” Gabriel smirked.

“No,” Dean growled. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the last time you put laxatives in my beer. I swapped it with some other poor bastard’s drink.”

Laughing, Gabriel said, “That’s my boy.”

Almost unwillingly, the tension disappeared from Dean’s shoulders, and he sighed, “I’m not in the mood okay? I just got framed for murder, killed myself and attended my own funeral.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows were so high they almost disappeared. “Okay that’s it. We’re definitely taking a holiday.”

*

“Holy fuck,” Dean groaned. He clutched his aching stomach. “I’m definitely never doing that again.”

Gabriel was rolling on the ground giggling, so high on their sugar rush that he was flying without his god-given wings.

On the twenty inch plasma screen Gabriel owned, Doctor Sexy MD was still strutting around in freakishly high definition. All the raunchy liaisons Dr Sexy engaged in, the smooches in particular and even the ringing sound of his cowboy boots were all fantastically clear, due to the amazing, surround-sound system in Gabriel’s penthouse.

Candy wrappers, empty fizzy drinks and pie cartons littered the place. It was like some carnival stand, candy-store hybrid had exploded in here.

“More,” Gabriel croaked. “We haven’t finished marathon-ing season six yet.

Dean groaned piteously. “I need a break. When my body stops buzzing from all the sugar we practically inhaled, I really need a break. I don’t think I can breathe yet. Holy crap.”

Pulling Dean onto his feet, Gabriel steadied the almost drunken sway Dean gave when he found himself suddenly upright. “Forget that,” Gabriel said giddily. “How would you like to the meet the man? The sexy sexy beast, Dr Sexy himself.”

Dean lit up, almost vibrating in place even as his eyes glazed over, lost to his fanboy daydream. “In p-person?”

“Sure thing, Dee, after all I think we really might need a doctor after that crapload of sugar we ate.” With a huge grin, Gabriel snapped his fingers.

*

“Gabriel,” Dean said, surprised. Usually there was a longer time gap between Gabriel’s appearances; it wasn’t like him to return so quickly after vanishing.

After the re-encounter with the shtriga, Gabriel had made himself scarce when Dean told him he was going to go after the haunted Asylum. The declaration of his utter disinterest in dead humans made, Gabriel flapped off to torture some more sorry excuses for people.

If there was one thing Gabriel hated, it was dealing with long car rides and boring, dead humans. On the other hand, stuff like the jobs involving that self-righteous girl and the nightmarish bug encounter were right up Gabriel’s alley.

Although, Gabriel had managed to bond with the Bloody Mary ghost; and their ensuing conversation was just about the creepiest thing Dean had ever heard. But he’d distracted her long enough for Dean to sneak up on her with a mirror and finally waste the murderous bitch.

So unless Gabriel had grown tired of his Trickster jig, something had definitely come up in the two day interval.

Dean slid a sideways glance at the unusually grim faced angel. “What is it?”

Sitting next to Dean in shotgun, Gabriel said bluntly, “Your dead-beat dad and brother are both in Lawrence.” All the blood drained from Dean’s face at the news. “Thought you might like to know.”

“What,” Dean repeated numbly. He swallowed painfully. “You sure know how to break the news,” Dean joked weakly and breathed in shakily. He steadied his hands on the steering wheel, squinting against the glare of the asphalt with intense focus. “What are they doing there?”

“Would you like to find out?”

“No,” Dean replied shortly. He shivered, uncurling one clammy hand and wiped it over his eyes and said, “No. They’re okay. That’s good enough for me.”

“You have to go back there some day,” Gabriel said.

“No thanks,” Dean said grimly. “I promised myself I’d never go back.”

“Tough,” Gabriel interjected, his golden eyes flashing with impatience. “You gotta deal with your issues right now, because you know how your dad and brother are. They’re going to rip each other to shreds before they even do what they went there for.”

Dean tried dodging but remembered too late that Gabriel didn’t even need actual contact to do simple tricks like this, such as move a man and his car half way across the country. In the space of a half a stuttered heartbeat, namely Dean’s, Gabriel had already deposited him in Lawrence and vanished like the conniving bastard he was. Sitting in front of some quaint, white-picketed house, was dad’s pick up.

“Sonovabitch,” Dean said, heartfelt.

Dawdling a little, Dean checked his handgun was properly loaded before finally tucking it into the waistband of his jeans. Grudgingly, Dean strode down the pathway to the front door and rapped his knuckles against the door. Or, he would have, if a large black woman hadn’t opened the door first, one hand fisted at her waist.

Dean blinked.

“Well, what took you so long?” the lady said, raising an eyebrow. “We’ve all been waiting for you.”

“We?” Dean said and muttered under his breath, “Christo.”

“I heard that, boy,” the lady said. “Honestly, you ain’t the brightest tool in the shed are you? Why your daddy and young Sammy, of course. Now hurry up, we ain’t got all day.”

“Of course,” Dean said faintly, feeling way out of his depth as he trooped in after her obediently.

*

“Dad, Sam!” Dean said hoarsely when he caught sight of them sitting meekly side by side at a couch.

“You boys behaved yourselves?” the lady wanted to know, her tone arch.

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam said promptly, eyeing her wooden spoon warily, but he couldn’t stop the huge grin that broke across his face. And wasn’t that the best damn thing Dean had seen in years.

Sam nearly tripped over the coffee table in his haste to get over to Dean. And Dad stood up as well, smiling as he watched his sons hug.

“It’s really good to see you,” Dean choked out, slapping Sam’s broad back. “And did you get taller Sammy?”

“Stopped growing when I hit twenty one,” Sam said with a grin, breaking apart to look at Dean. “And I can’t believe you just walked into some stranger’s house.”

“We do stuff like that all the time,” Dean replied. He looked at Dad for an introduction. “So…”

“This is Missouri,” John said with a small nod towards the rather scary lady with the ladle. “She’s a psychic.”

“I’m the one who told your daddy about all the things that go bump in the night after what happened with your mother,” Missouri continued in a complete no nonsense tone.

Dean swallowed. “Alright. But what’re you guys doing together. And here - in Lawrence of all places?”

“Missouri asked for our help, something was happening in our old home. We came, better safe than sorry, but it turned out to be just a couple of poltergeists,” Sam explained ruefully.

“Damn nasty things,” Missouri added, pouring more tea into the four cups placed on the coffee table. She replaced the teapot on a battered looking doily and sipped from her teacup with a mild expression.

“Better safe than sorry what?” Dean asked tensely.

The three of them looked at each other, Sam, Dad and Missouri, exchanging significant glances that raised Dean’s hackles.

“Sit down, boy,” Missouri said. “There’s quite a lot to tell.”

“Sure, alright,” Dean said, “why not.”

They shuffled and managed to all squeeze into Missouri’s couch while she sat on the adjacent much more comfy looking armchair.

“Two demons found me, they possessed my classmates. They told me that Yellow Eyes had been looking for me for a long time.” Sam’s voice was hollowed out and his fingers dug into his thighs. He shuddered, looking haunted. “And then they did something to me.”

Dean inhaled sharply. “When was this? Why didn’t you call me?”

“Sam called me,” Dad said. “I was near the area so I got there within the hour.”

“That’s right,” Dean murmured, looking down. “Jericho.” He bit the inside of his cheek. Missouri looked at him pityingly, and Dean kept his eyes down. Why didn’t you ask me come along?

“They made Sammy drink demon blood.” Dad frowned deeply, and Dean’s heart stuttered in his chest.

Hands clenching, Dean asked, “Did they do anything else?” He scanned Sam from head to toe like he could pick out any injuries that had happened more than a year ago and make them better again.

Sam shook his head mutely.

“We performed as many cleansing spells as possible,” John said.

“We even went back to Pastor Jim’s place,” Sam said with a faint smile. “Missouri double checked too.”

“Clean as a whistle,” Missouri confirmed, warmth in her voice and John nodded at her with gratitude.

This time it was Dean’s turn to nod mutely. He resolutely didn’t glance over at Missouri.

Dad picked up the tale from there, explaining how the demons had let something slip, that there were other kids like Sam, or what Sam should have been like. It turned out that while Sam fit the pattern, somehow he’d never manifested any psychic ability.

“So far we’ve tracked down four of them,” Sam added, his eyes bright with determination. “Those demons said we were made for some sort of demonic army. And who knows how many more are out there.”

“That’s great,” Dean bit out, his tone sharper than he intended. He struggled to reign in his temper and continued a little more steadily. “Why am I here then? If you guys were doing so well, why bring me in on this?”

Sam looked at him, sympathetic. “I wanted to, Dean. But - ”

“Dean, listen to me,” Dad cut in. “I’m sorry I left you out of this, but I sent you to those hunts so I didn’t have to worry.

“But now we have a solid lead and a way to finally kill that demon once and for all.”

*

“So this is it, huh?” Dean said. He handled the Colt gingerly, turning it over in his hands carefully, dragging the pad of his finger across the Latin engraving with a smile. “What kind of bullet does this thing use, anyway? Are people even manufacturing ammo this gun uses anymore?”

“No,” Sam admitted. “And even if we did find any of the same model, they’d be useless. The whole ‘kill anything’ deal only works with the bullets Samuel Colt made.”

Dean snorted. “Figures. So how many did he make?”

“Thirteen. But there were only five when we got it and Dad used one on a vamp a while back.”

“Whoa. Vampires? I thought they were extinct.”

Sam grinned. “Yeah, not so much. We took out an entire coven.”

“You lucky son of a bitch,” Dean sighed. There were random odd bits of psychic junk Missouri kept in her house, some sparkly, some feathery, and Dean didn’t even know what all the other crap was. Choosing the ugliest crystal ball he’d ever laid his eyes on, Dean gripped the Colt and mimed firing at his target.

Ka-boom! No longer did humanity have to gaze into such a hideous thing.

“Don’t think I didn’t see that, Dean Winchester!” Missouri’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “I will smack you if I have to.”

Dean lowered his arm contritely, and his face felt uncomfortably hot while Sam held onto his sides, laughing until he was red in the face.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, bitch,” Dean retorted with a small smile.

“Jerk,” Sam wheezed. “Man I haven’t laughed so much since - ”

Sam’s expression fell, and while Dean still felt a little bitter, he was glad that Sam had enjoyed Stanford, at least until the demons shown up wearing Sam’s friends.

Dean cleared his throat. “How is this even going to work? Four bullets against the evilest son of a bitch we’ve ever encountered.”

“It’ll work,” Sam said. “It’s got to.”

*

Before they left Missouri’s house, she caught Dean’s arm and said lowly, “When your father came to me for answers after the fire, I sensed both you and your brother had been touched by something supernatural.”

Pausing, she searched his face, her dark eyes intent, and seemed to find what she was looking for, because she continued. “That touch’s completely gone from Sam. But with you, it’s gotten worse.”

Missouri let go of his arm and looked contemplatively at her hand. “It’s nothing I’ve ever seen before. Be careful, and watch your father’s and Sam’s backs.”

“I will,” Dean replied, not answering her subtle query about Gabriel’s influence. “I always have.”

Missouri only smiled.

*

Stepping out of Missouri’s house, Dean took in what might be his last sight of Lawrence. While it hadn’t as bad as he thought it would be, it still hurt like a bitch, his heart squeezing in his chest. Still, his remaining family was together again. There were worse things Dean would do or endure for his family.

Plus they had sandwiches for the road! Dean hurried over to where Sam was standing beside the Impala. Dad was already climbing into his vehicle without a backward glance at his sons.

They piled in and Dean chucked the container full of sandwiches and other snacks into the backseat. “So where’re we heading?”

Sam answered, “Salvation, Iowa.” He patted the upholstery with a fond look and stretched out his freakishly long legs, settling in the front seat comfortably.

That made Dean duck his head slightly, hiding a smile as he started up the engine and made sure to keep up with Dad’s truck.

Always eager to share geeky stuff, Sam elaborated, “We met up with this weird computer genius who complied all of Dad’s research. He made a computer omen tracker, that’s how we caught up with some of Yellow Eye’s kids too.”

“So some computer’s telling us where to go?” Dean said disbelievingly.

“It’s no different from a GPS,” Sam said. “And one of the friendlier, less insane psychic kids called me up, she has visions, and, yeah, she confirmed that Yellow Eyes would be hitting that place in two days.”

*

They startled out of their comfortable silence when Sam’s phone rang out, glaringly loud. He picked it up and said, “Jess?” in a small, wary voice.

“Guess again, Sammy,” Jess’ voice said, smug and slick as oil on asphalt. “She ain’t home.”

Dean glanced at Sam cautiously, readjusting his grip on the steering wheel.

“Meg,” Sam growled tightly. “Get out of her or I swear…”

“You’ll kill me?” Meg crowed. “That gun of yours ain’t no good when you care about the meatsuit. Poor little Jessica’s been screaming in here like a little bitch. She’s quite irritating you know? Don’t see why you like her.

“Now be a good little boy and just quietly hand over the colt,” Meg said sweetly. “I’ll even let you all walk free. I hear the Winchesters are a lovely threesome again, you don’t want so see your dear daddy and brother’s heads on a pike so soon do you?”

“Fuck you,” Sam spat.

“Ah ah,” Meg said, “Is that how you talk to a lady? No wonder poor Jess here never took a second glance at you and went out with your best friend, Brady.”

The ensuing wet kissing noise over the phone made Sam blanch, and there was an obscene popping noise before Meg purred lasciviously, “That meatsuit my brother’s wearing really is quite handsome. I can see the attraction.”

Sam’s stomach turned over, and he seriously thought he was going to be sick. Meg laughed, “Bye, Sammy. Hope you make the right choice. Later.”

The line went dead and Sam lowered his hand. It was trembling.

“You okay there?” Dean asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Sam said abruptly. “Just can’t wait for everything to finally be over.”

*

“Hey, the dad and bro kill each other yet?” Gabriel quipped with a smile.

Returning the smile, Dean closed the motel door carefully, and they walked to the back of the Impala. “Haven’t had to sneak around to talk to you in a long time.”

“Nostalgic isn’t it?” Gabriel smirked.

Dean took a deep breath. “Gabriel, we’re going after the Yellow Eyes. He’s going to show up, tomorrow.”

“Look, there’s something I need to tell you,” Gabriel said, slowly. “About…the Yellow Eyes.”

Suddenly much more alert, Dean said, “Well, what is it.”

“He’s actually my brother,” Gabriel confessed, wincing. “His name’s Azazel. And he’s kind of one of the black sheep of the family. Sheeps. Sheep?”

“Um wow,” Dean managed. “Okay. Must be some black sheep you have in your family. First Lucifer then Azazel.”

“Oh and, yeah, Sammael’s real by the way,” Gabriel said perkily. “You know, Lucifer. Just a FYI.”

“Seriously?” Dean said. “The Devil is real? Great that’s comforting to know.”

“He’s locked away, so you don’t need to worry about him,” Gabriel rambled on. “If nothing happens to his locks, then nothing bad will happen. Simple.”

Simple, right. Dean rolled his eyes. Just the locks holding the Devil back from walking the Earth. “Yeah and how many times does that happen in our lives?”

Gabriel opened his mouth, but Dean added hastily, “Don’t answer that.”

“I was just going to say, at least this once,” Gabriel said sulkily. “I’ll be helping you out with this Azazel business. I never liked him anyway. You concentrate on shooting the bastard with the colt. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Dean smiled. “Really? Thanks.”

“Now buck up, Dee. You have a family to save tomorrow. Everything’s going to be fine.”

*

“Brother,” Azazel said, sounding pleasantly surprised, he spread his palms open in welcome. “Oh my, I heard you were dead. Are you finally here to join us? The best of us?”

“Sammael betrayed us,” Gabriel told Azazel, anger suffusing his vessel’s voice. They circled each other warily. “I’m on no one’s side. But everything ends here, Azazel. Lucifer will never walk the Earth. Your bid for world domination failed.”

Azazel gave an unpleasant smile. “You were the one to erase my mark on little Sammy Winchester. He’s quite special, I see, to warrant angelic intervention when no angels have stepped foot topside since dear daddy’s precious son kicked the bucket.”

“I’m here on no-one’s orders,” Gabriel spat. “I just want everything to stop. The whole fight’s pointless.”

“Yes of course, you always were a coward,” Azazel said disdainfully. “Not one for the trenches, and you underestimated me, messenger boy.”

Slowly, Gabriel sank on his knees, holding his side where the blade had buried itself, he could feel the curse and corrupted demonic blood ravage his vessel and it became more and more painful to reside inside. His grace was also being tainted and there was nothing he could do except grow weaker and weaker.

An angel was powerless inside a desecrated vessel. Trapped. Helpless.

“You see I was prepared for you,” Azazel explained, held his hand up, twisting his fingers and greedily watched the corresponding twist of the knife that burrowed deeper into Gabriel’s vessel. “Not you in particular. But I knew there was another busybody third party messing up my plans. While I might not possess an archangel blade, I can still make sure you’re out of commission, forever. So long, brother.”

Azazel snapped his fingers and holy fire sprang up around Gabriel. “Extra insurance. Now, it’s time I go welcome the Winchesters. Which would be better? Daddy or the big brother?”


	4. Chapter 4

“What just happened back there?” Dad demanded as he barreled out of Monica’s front door, the door slamming open with force, snapping back from the wall. “Why didn’t you take the shot?”

“I was too late okay?” Sam retorted, catching the door’s rebound before it could break his nose. “I’m pissed at myself too okay!”  
  
“Hey, hey, calm down,” Dean interjected, clamping one hand each on Sam and Dad’s shoulder and turned them to face him. “We saved the kid and the mom. That’s a win. We can take another shot at the demon later. We still have three bullets left. We only need one to nail the evil son of a bitch.”  
  
“Not good enough!” Dad shouted, shrugging Dean’s hand off, glaring at his sons furiously. Dad dragged a hand over his brow, only exhaustion lining his face. “Just get in the car. We need to regroup.”

*

They’d barely entered the remote cabin that Dad led them to when he rounded on Sam.  
  
“Give me the colt, son,” Dad said, holding his hand out towards Sam.  
  
Sam blinked, sharing a brief confused glance with Dean. “What?”  
  
“Give it to me,” Dad demanded, shaking his hand to stress his point. “You proved that you couldn’t be even trusted to do a simple job.”  
  
“Dad, what are you saying?” Dean quickly stepped in between Dad and Sam. “There was a baby there. And the kid’s mom came in.”  
  
“Sam wasted our only chance! And more people are going to die because your brother hesitated. Now  _give me the gun_.”  
  
Dean glanced at Sam through the corner of his eye, catching his gaze.  
  
“No,” Sam refused, glaring. He took the colt out and pointed it at Yellow Eyes. “Get out of my dad now!”  
  
“Sam, what - ” Dad looked exasperated and very angry. “Don’t you dare point that gun at me, Sammy. Unless you plan to follow through, give me the damn gun.”  
  
Sam cocked the colt. “Get out now!”  
  
There was a tense moment of silence as Dad regarded them severely, with an expression that showed his extreme displeasure at his disobedient soldiers. It promised pain and punishment, and it was the exact face Dad had worn when Dean had failed to look after Sammy and let him run off to Flagstaff.  
  
Dean was halfway to blurting out an apology when Dad smiled, his eyes glazing yellow. “Huh, never thought you’d figure it out so fast.” He flicked his hand, sending Dean flying into the wall and Sam to the table.  
  
“You bastard!” Dean swore heatedly. “Get out of our dad, you son of bitch.”  
  
“My, my, what a dirty mouth you have. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Azazel laughed. “Oh my mistake, I killed her.”  
  
“Also, I have a little present for you. This look familiar to you?” Azazel said, snapping his fingers and Gabriel’s crumpled body appeared in the dingy cabin room and a second after that, a ring of fire blazed around Gabriel.  
  
Dean’s heart was pounding so hard.  _Gabriel_. “What did you do to him?”  
  
“A little this, a little that. He won’t be getting up anytime soon though,” Azazel mused with a delighted grin. “So put the thoughts of any rescue cavalry out of your tiny, pathetic human brains.”  
  
“Dean,” Sam said slowly, “who’s that.”  
  
Azazel barked out a short laugh, looking thoroughly entertained. “Oh this is good. Little Deano here didn’t tell you he had a friend? Well, maybe not so surprising huh, Dean. Since Sammy here ran away from you and ignored you for five years.”  
  
“How did it feel to find out Daddy and Sammy took off on their own adventures, leaving you to pick up their mess like their very own maid, leaving orders with a time and place to fill like a two bit whore?”  
  
“Don’t listen to him,” Sam urged. “He’s lying.”  
  
Azazel cocked his head at Sam. “I’m so proud of you, Sammy. The plans I had, you’ll fit them perfectly. Your manipulation and delegation skills are truly impressive. Daddy trained you well.”  
  
“You on the other hand.” With a leer, Azazel reached out a hand, pinning Dean to the wall. He stepped in close, whispering into Dean’s ear. “Poor little puppy, obedient and always begging for the slightest scrap of attention from a father and brother who see you as expendable.”  
  
“Demons lie,” Sam said, but it was feeble protest, his convictions all but gone. His little brother looked so wretched and sorry, his eyes begging Dean to understand, to forgive him.  
  
“Why lie,” Azazel purred, “when the truth is so much sweeter?”  
  
Fuck, Dean thought. They really didn’t think about him unless it was to send coordinates to him. Sure that was all good to learn that, and what a kick in the teeth it was, but Dean had more or less known it his entire life. The demon’s words were only a verbal acknowledgement of the thousands of hurts his family had dealt him over the years.  
  
He was used to it. At least they hadn’t ignored him on purpose. And nobody, especially not fucking Yellow Eyes was going to hurt his family again.  
  
Azazel smiled, stepping back. “I’ll put you out of your misery soon.”

*

“Dad, dad, please,” Sam was crying.  
  
“Oh, scream louder.” Azazel was enjoying this, he turned to smile at Sam. “Daddy dearest’s screaming inside here. And he’s going to watch as I kill his son with his bare hands.”  
  
Azazel closed his hands around Dean’s neck, squeezing down, crushing all those important vital blood vessels, nerves and the delicate trachea.  
  
“Poor Dean,” Azazel murmured. “The last thing you’ll see is your daddy grinding you into the dust like the deadweight trash you are.”  
  
Dean wheezed for breath, it felt like he’d been sunk into the depths of the ocean, ice cold pressure crushing his entire body, and his neck was about to be flattened. Looking at Dad’s face wasn’t such a bad way to die, really. Dean hadn’t thought he’d see it again to be honest.  
  
“You’re a stubborn bastard, dad,” Sam was shouting. All desperation and seething rage. It didn’t even really sound like Sammy any more. “Take control of your damn body. You’re killing Dean! Stop him. Please! Dad!”  
  
Everything felt numb, Dean couldn’t feel his body anymore, he could only see Dad’s yellow eyes, but even those were fading.  
  
Dean thought he blacked out, because one moment he was upright, the next he was lying on his side on the ground. He blinked.  
  
He pushed himself up with his elbows, struggling to lift his head, but he managed. Dad was screaming, his body twisting and jerking like he was suffering a fit, yelling, “Shoot me! Sam, shoot me!”  
  
The moment Sam fired the colt, Dean felt like he’d really died. The colt in Sam’s hand was still smoking and Dad was lying on the ground too. Dean had a nice close up look at the bleeding hole in Dad’s forehead.  
  
“Oh god,” Sam said, his voice breaking. “Oh god,” he sobbed out, the Colt fell out of his lax hands, clattering to the floor.  
  
Dean stared at the weapon that just felled his father.  
  
Things were happening too fast. What just happened?  
  
“Sammy,” Dean whispered hoarsely, his throat on fire. “S - ”  
  
Sam screamed. Dean whipped his head up again, his vision lurching, but he really didn’t think it was so bad that he was hallucinating those two black eyed bastards currently ripping Sam apart.  
  
“You filthy, miserable worm!” Meg shrieked. “I’m going to kill you!”  
  
Dean could only see the barest sides of their faces. But their rage had made their previously good looking appearances grotesque. There was only bitter revenge in their oil-slick, black eyes and hatred sharpened by centuries down in hell and fueled by the death of Azazel.  
  
“That was our father that you just killed,” Tom said in an eerie flat voice. “We’ll make you pay, Winchester.”  
  
Sammy was screaming.  
  
Sammy was screaming and screaming and screaming.

*

“No, no, no,” Dean begged, his voice was a ragged whispery thing. He could feel madness chasing along its tattered coattails, threatening to overwhelm him.  
  
Sam had stopped screaming.  
  
The Colt dropped from his nerveless fingers, the chambers completely empty. Meg and Tom dropped like a sack of stones, their meatsuits twitching from leftover static psychic energy.  
  
It was too silent.  
  
The silence was an awning terrible thing and Dean felt he might drown in it. Dean felt his terror bubbling up, a scream he couldn’t bear hearing.  
  
But it was too silent.  
  
His vision was blurred with tears, but no matter how hard he blinked all he could see was Dad on the floor with a neat bullet hole between his eyes. Sam on the ground in a growing pool of blood.  
  
He scrambled to his feet, swaying dangerously, but he stumbled over to where the holy fire was still burning. Gabriel lay crumpled on the floor, a sickly green tint to his too pale pallor. “Please no.”  
  
“Fuck you, no, no,” Dean swore, weeping openly. He stumbled back to Sam, collapsing onto his knees. “Sam, Sammy? Look at me. Open your eyes. Sammy?”  
  
Sammy made a small wounded noise at the back of his ravaged throat, a terrible wet rasping sound that cut Dean to the quick. Dean’s hands shook as he touched Sammy’s face, fluttering over trying to stem the blood flow from the various open wounds on Sammy’s body even though the lethal injuries were the ones on the inside.  
  
Meg had turned Sam’s intestines to pulp and Brady had snapped all the ribs, piercing his lungs. Sammy was drowning in blood.  
  
“Sammy, I’m so sorry. I’m going to get you better okay. Just hold on. Sammy? Sammy!” 

*

Surrounded by dead bodies, Dean’s legs were numb and bitterly cold from sitting on the ground holding his brother’s cooling corpse and staring beseechingly at Dad’s body from time to time.  
  
“What do I do?” Dean whispered. “What…what do I do? Dad, tell me. Please. I don’t know what. Please Dad, Sammy he’s…”  
  
He closed his eyes, crying harder.

*

Finally, Dean peeled himself away from Sammy and Dad and crawled his way among the bodies back to where Gabriel lay unmoving.  
  
“Gabriel,” Dean said, “Gabriel! Wake up! Please! My dad, Sam! They’re both gone. Please, you’re the only one I have left.”  
  
Dean cast his eyes around the room, for something, anything, that would extinguish holy fire. In the end, he used the spare holy water kept in the trunk of the Impala and watched impatiently as the flames sputtered out, leaving a perfect circle of scorch marks on the floor.  
  
He patted Gabriel’s face, and now that Dean had Gabriel on his back, he finally noticed a small dagger stabbed into Gabriel’s side. He pulled it out gently, ignoring the way the handle stung his hand.  
  
“Don’t you dare die on me,” Dean muttered, checking the wound, there was nothing there, no injury except for green tinted veins and demonic script spiraling from the site. “Fuck. I thought angels were supposed to be impervious to everything. You son of a bitch, Gabriel. Don’t you dare die.”  
  
His hands were shaking. Dean just wanted to lie down and sleep for years. He was so fucking tired. “You’re going to be alright, you hear me? You’re going to be alright.”  
  
Dean left Gabriel to go back to Dad and Sam, he looked at them, at their bloodless white faces, drawn in death. He wondered how his heart was even beating it hurt so badly. He dragged Meg and Tom outside and resisted the violent urge to rip their corpses apart because the meatsuits they wore used to mean a lot to Sammy. So Dean bundled them up, poured accelerant on them and lighted a whole box of matches.  
  
Then he went back for Sam and Dad. He ferried them both to the Impala, putting them in the backseat. Returning to the house again, he fetched Gabriel and arranged him on the front seat.  
  
He collected all their weapons, shoved the empty Colt into his jeans, hollow like Dean was. Knock knock, Dean would echo back two huge gaping Sam and Dad shaped holes. How was Dean even breathing?  
  
Dean went to check on how Jess and Brady’s bodies were burning.  
  
As Dean watched the last of the embers die away, he dialed Bobby’s number.  
  
“Hello? Who is this?” Then, an incredulous, “ _Dean_? Is that you?”  
  
Dean’s voice was steady as he rattled off the coordinates for the cabin and asked him to pick up Dad’s truck.  
  
“Sure, is everything alright? Dean?”  
  
He said his thankyous and goodbyes and hung up.  
  
He got into his car and looked at his family. For once, they were all together, what a happy reunion. Dean almost laughed.  
  
Dean started the engine and drove for the nearest crossroads he could find.

*

Even before Dean had gotten up off his knees, a voice rang out in the open field, “You don’t want to do this, Dean.” The cultured British accent set Dean’s teeth on edge.  
  
He sprang on his feet, aiming the Colt unerringly into the crossroad demon’s face. “Bring them back,” Dean demanded.  
  
The demon smirked. “I can’t, and I won’t.”  
  
“You bastard,” Dean snarled, cocking the colt. “Bring them back right now, or I’ll end your miserable little life.”  
  
“Who’s the one with the miserable life?” The demon chuckled, looking awfully calm facing the only weapon capable of destroying demons. As though he knew there were no more bullets left. “I’ll let you in on secret here, sweetheart.” He waved his hand in the direction of the Impala. “Your daddy doesn’t have a soul to bring back. His soul was eradicated along with Azazel’s. Thanks for that by the way. He was such a pain.”  
  
“Azazel?”  
  
“The Yellow Eyes, he had a name.” The demon’s eyebrows lifted and said more to himself. “Oh, you knew that already.” He flicked a glance at the Impala and gave a small smile as he seemed to come to a realization.  
  
“And my dad’s gone,” Dean said flatly, not caring one whit what the red-eyed bastard wanted.  
  
“Not even a spark.”  
  
“Fine!” Dean shouted. “Then what about my brother! And Gabriel! Gabriel’s not even dead!”  
  
“Ooh, the angel,” the demon said. “Not part of my jurisdiction. Can’t touch angels, not if you want him to get better.”  
  
“Fine,” Dean gritted out. “Bring back my brother and tell me how I can help him if you won’t.”  
  
“You really should let them go,” the demon said. “It’s not the bloody end of the world.”  
  
“I don’t care!” Dean burst out. “Do it now or I’ll shoot you and find another fucking demon to make a deal with.”  
  
“Don’t be like that, sweetheart,” the demon said. “If you really insist, I will.”  
  
“I want my brother back and information on how to heal Gabriel for ten years,” Dean demanded.  
  
The demon smiled. “No can do, darling.”  
  
“You just said you would!”  
  
“I did, but that’s the wrong price. Guess again.”  
  
“Eight years.”  
  
The demon shook his head with that fucking smirk on his face.  
  
“Fine, five years. And that’s the lowest I’m going to go.”  
  
The demon chuckled, “Pity. You made such a convincing case too. Good luck finding another crossroads.”  
  
“Wait!” Dean burst out desperately. “Fine, what do you want?”  
  
“I’ll give you until you revive sleeping beauty over there. But you better move fast or there won’t be enough of the angel to save,” the demon said. “I’ll even throw in the stuff for feathers over there for free. Otherwise you would’ve only had four months.”  
  
“Deal,” Dean snapped immediately.  
  
The demon smiled. “Well then, it seems all that’s left is to seal it.”  
  
He stood there waiting, still wearing that impeccable suit and that smile. Dean went to kiss the damn smile off of him.  
  
Sam was only just waking when Dean got back to the car, information about his ‘associate’ in London burned into his brain.  
  
“What?” Sam mumbled. “What happened? Ow, my fucking head. Fucking hurts.”  
  
“Sammy,” Dean breathed, it was almost a sob. The relief at hearing his brother’s voice was crushing. He was so, so desperately glad. “I’m so glad to see you.”  
  
“What happened?”  
  
“Shh,” Dean whispered, brushing his knuckles across Sam’s cheeks and pressing his palm to Sam’s chest, feeling the fall and rise of his breaths and the steady beating of his heart. Never was there a better sound. “Go back to sleep okay? We’re gonna go to Bobby’s for a while. Take a nap. Everything’s fine.”  
  
“Did we get him?” Sam mumbled.  
  
“Who, Sammy?”  
  
“The Yellow Eyes. Is he dead?”  
  
Dean bit his lip and resolutely didn’t look through the rear-view mirror at Dad. “Yeah, Sammy. He’s gone. He won’t hurt us ever again.”

*

The world was seriously blurry, like he’d gone on a bender like the last time in the 1800s. Whoa, too much light. He quickly shut his eyes again. Gabriel thought he’d sworn off hard alcohol since then. The sugar high was all he needed these days.  
  
“el? – Gabriel? Ga - ”  
  
Huh? What was that?  
  
Something wet splashed onto his vessel. And despite the splitting headache, he felt strangely calm, almost at peace. It was nice feeling. Gabriel really liked it.  
  
“Gabriel. I’m so glad you’re okay. Just rest okay? The nerdy bookstore brother of yours told me you need a few months to get back on your feet again. Or wings. Whatever.”  
  
Dean. Was that Dean? It sounded like him.  
  
Gabriel tried to pry his eyes open again, but his consciousness was slipping from him again. How did that happen? He never slept. Something was seriously wrong. Dean!  
  
“Get some rest. You’re safe. Nothing will happen to you here. I’ll be here when you wake up.”  
  
No he wasn’t. No, Dean! What did you do? Gabriel thought desperately. He clawed at his grace, frantically trying to stay awake, but it was pitiful and weak and slipped away.

*

The next time Gabriel woke up, it was completely. And he was looking at shoes, shiny black shoes that his brother was wearing. Sitting at the armchair beside the cot Gabriel had woke up on, was Aziraphale, reading a book.  
  
“Why did you let him go?” Gabriel demanded.  
  
“He made a deal,” Aziraphale explained gently, bookmarking his place.  
  
“No, what?” Gabriel felt numb.  
  
“He died moments after you woke half a year ago.”  
  
“Half a year?” Gabriel was panicking. He was definitely panicking. “You don’t understand, he’s the Righteous Man. The apocalypse’s going to start. He’s going to break. Dean is going to break.  _Dean_.”  
  
Aziraphale regarded at Gabriel sadly. “It’s already begun.”  
  
“No,” Gabriel whispered brokenly.  
  
“He’s back,” Aziraphale said gently. “Our brothers raised him. Go see him.”  
  
“I can’t.” Gabriel looked at Aziraphale steadily. “There’s something I need to do first.”

*

“Anael,” Gabriel summoned. “Anael!” he screamed.  
  
Anael appeared, her vessel’s hair rumpled and clothes full of rips as though she’d just had a fight with a wind turbine.  
  
Her wary expression vanished the moment she set eyes on Gabriel. “Brother! You’re back!”  
  
“What have you been doing?” Gabriel snarled. “The apocalypse started! What in our damn father’s name have you been doing?”  
  
Anael had the grace to look contrite before returning his ire with stubbornness. “Dean Winchester’s deal was binding, he made it with Crowley, the so called King of the Crossroads but still, I couldn’t touch it. Not without alerting all of the Host’s attention. He died so quickly too,” she whispered.  
  
“And?” Gabriel demanded, his heart lurching at the reminder of Dean’s death.  
  
“So I stuck close to Sam Winchester. He’s the other half of the story. There was also this demon that tried to get close to him during Dean’s time in hell. I took care of it, but also kind of revealed myself to him. I’ve been with Sam ever since.”  
  
Absolutely incredulous, Gabriel’s eyebrows were up so high they were virtually gone. But that was okay, Gabriel had flexible eyebrows. “What, so everything I asked of you, you failed to accomplish?”  
  
“It’s not like you did any better,” Anael retorted waspishly.  
  
 _That_  unfortunately was very true, so Gabriel let Anael’s impertinence slide. Gabriel closed his eyes. “How is he?” he asked painfully, fighting to get every word out.  
  
“He’s coping. As much as any human can. I think he misses you.”  
  
Gabriel cracked a weak grin. “Please don’t tell me it was Castiel who plucked Dean out of the pit.”  
  
Anael returned the smile. “Seeing those two butt heads is quite amusing.”  
  
“What I wouldn’t give to see their first meeting,” Gabriel laughed just imagining Castiel’s bemused expression when faced with Dean’s utterly unimpressed reaction to his message of God’s work.  
  
“You should go see him,” Anael said softly. “You’re back now. Everything’s going to work out. Now go.”

*

A little shaky, Gabriel left England and reappeared in the Winchester’s motel room along with Anael.  
  
He glanced around, Sam had commandeered the single table in the room and was hunched over his laptop, his brows furrowed deeply at whatever was scrolling on the screen. Dean was sitting on the bed, cleaning his favourite, pearl handled gun.  
  
It seemed Dean still had the extra-sensory perception he’d inherited from Mary because barely a moment had passed before his head snapped up, eyes wide with disbelief and hesitant joy.  
  
“Gabriel?”  
  
Sam’s head shot up. “Huh?” Anael moved to stand beside Sam, putting a hand on his shoulder.  
  
But Dean wasn’t paying attention and neither was Gabriel.  
  
Dean’s gun clattered to the carpeted floor, forgotten as Dean suddenly leapt to his feet and crossed the distance to envelope Gabriel in a massive hug.  
  
“You stupid son of a bitch, Dee,” Gabriel said hoarsely, a little choked up. He wrapped his arms around Dean tightly and was so incredibly relieved to find that Dean’s soul was still mercifully intact and stunning in its brightness.  
  
“You’re the stupid one,” Dean retorted, squeezing just as fiercely. His head dipped slightly to press into the side of Gabriel’s neck. Dean’s emotions were a messy tumble of crushing anger-fear, staggering relief and sharp, diamond-edged joy.  
  
And through the maelstrom, all Gabriel could hear as clear as the ringing clarity of the horn of truth he used to possess was  _– I’msogladyou’rehere – Gabriel,youasshole – lazysonofabitch,sleepingtilltheendofdays – Imissedyou – ImissedyouImissedyou –_    
  
“Welcome back,” Dean said even as his soul curled close, brushing against Gabriel’s grace, whispering  _– I missed you I missed you – I’m so glad you’re here._  
  
Gabriel didn’t think he’d ever get used to how anyone, how  _Dean_  could be so happy just to see him. It was humbling, frightening and just – just – Amazing.  
  
“Hush, its okay,” Gabriel laughed. There may have been a few tears, but Gabriel couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m here now.”  
   
 

fin.


End file.
